


Breaking The Siege

by tielan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Ending, Episode: The Siege, Gen, season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-06
Updated: 2006-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-10 06:39:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the last few seconds ticked down and the puddlejumper approached the hive ships, John Sheppard fully intended to go out and go out with a bang, and not a whimper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Rescue

It happened so fast.

As the last few seconds ticked down and the puddlejumper approached the hive ships, John Sheppard fully intended to go out - and go out with a bang, and not a whimper.

His arms and legs tingled slightly, the faintest prickle of sensation, like goosebumps raised over skin. A restrained tremor quivered through his shoulders and chest as he inhaled deeply and blew out. He felt oddly calm, as though nothing could touch him.

Through the windscreen of the ‘jumper, his target loomed huge and terrifying. Thousands of Wraith lived on that ship. Tens of thousands of humans had died aboard it.

John would make one more. The last one.

Another thirty seconds and he’d be charred radioactive dust out in space - and so would the hiveship. Twenty-nine seconds, twenty-eight, twenty-sev--

There was a splash of light from beyond the hive ship, bright enough to dazzle him, even as the viewscreen auto-darkened in phototropic response. He caught the glimpse of a huge ship, large and boxy, its exterior gleaming with greyish-silver menace, before his radio squawked loudly and the steady voice of a man accustomed to command rang through the channel.

“...nel Steven Caldwell of the United States Air Force, in command of the _Daedelus _, contacting Dr. Elizabeth Weir, Major John Sheppard, Colonel Dylan Everett or their relieving representatives on a broadcast channel. Please respond immediately.”

There was a moment of stunned silence across the radio before Elizabeth’s voice came through the channel, slightly breathless, “_Daedelus_, this is Dr. Elizabeth Weir of Atlantis. Thank you for getting here.”

“Thanks can wait for later, Doctor,” the deep voice said dryly, “_after_ we’ve saved your asses. Deploying Icarus Squadron _now_. Do you have any fighters up here that we shouldn’t shoot?”

“Major Sheppard? Are you there?”

Fifteen seconds to impact.

John veered from his course, slipping beneath the belly of the hive ship instead of into what he’d guessed was a landing bay for the Wraith darts.__

“Still here. Colonel Caldwell,” he took a gamble on the man’s rank, “welcome to Atlantis. Sorry about the welcome.”

“Sorry we weren’t here sooner, Major Sheppard.”

“You wanted to know my status. I’m the only Atlantis ship up here, but my ship has a cloaking device and shields.”

“Then I’ll let my pilots know that if they can see it and it moves, they can shoot it.” The man had a wry sense of humour, anyway, and John felt a smile touch his lips. “Will you be joining in the fray, Major?”

“Actually, I was planning to end it, sir. I have a nuclear weapon aboard this ship.”

The silence that came through the radio was more than a little stunned, before the Colonel spoke again. “We do kamikaze now?”

“When the circumstances require it.”

“Major, you are ordered not to detonate the weapon aboard your ship. I repeat, do _not_ detonate the weapon aboard your ship. You may join the fray if you wish, or return to Atlantis, but my people are working on a solution at this very moment.”

“Copy that, sir.” John dragged in a deep breath, suddenly breathtakingly aware of the space around him. He was alive. He was going to live. His body liked that thought.

With awareness came the consciousness of the Wraith darts whirring through the vacuum of space around him, and he took the helm in his grip. He didn’t realise he’d clarified his intent to fire upon them until he saw the flaming trails of the drones swerving through the air.

Two darts exploded in fiery death.

Two less to attack Atlantis. Nine-hundred and ninety-nine to go.

His radio crackled again, “Atlantis One, this is Icarus One. I’m guessing those were yours?”

John glanced up at the bulk of the _Daedelus_ in the far quadrant of the sky. He could just make out tiny specks of a dozen ships slipping through the blackness of space. “Icarus One, this is ‘Jumper One,” he said. “Those were mine. Go get your own.”

There was a short laugh over the radio. “All right, Icarus, you heard ‘Jumper One. Let’s go get ‘em!”

Assorted responses came back from the other pilots in the squadron, and John grinned to himself. It had been years since he’d been part of a squadron like this, but the feeling of it was...well, nostalgic. For the first time since the death of Colonel Sumner, he felt the weight of responsibility of Atlantis lift from his shoulders.

Yes, it was still his responsibility - no matter how cavalierly some Colonel waltzed in and announced ‘you are relieved of your command’ - but he wasn’t doing it alone anymore. He wasn’t trying to save the city on a wing and a prayer.

Twelve wings, and a Earthship, maybe.

Still bad odds, but better than before. And he was evening the odds just a little, even now. Of course, with twelve other small, manuoevrable ships around, John didn’t want to mistake one of them for an enemy ship...

_A radar of some kind would come in handy right now._ A moment later, the holoscreen appeared before his eyes - and not just a screen, but an actual 3D depiction of the space - complete with the faintest pulsing curve along the edge of the zone to show the planet’s atmosphere.

His position was tracked with a small glowing, yellow spark, while the hiveship loomed scarlet and the darts were a swarm of tiny red mosquitos. The _Daedelus_ showed up in blue, as did the dozen tiny fighter craft rapidly approaching the hiveship.

He fired another three drones and watched the Wraith darts light up the sky, even as he piloted his way through the debris of the last couple, and turned on his way out.

One of the other pilots whistled. “Whoa, baby! Dad, can I have one of them for Christmas?”

John blinked. The speaker was female - either that, or one of the guys had an impressive falsetto. They ran women pilots now?

“Yeah, when hell freezes over, Mickey. Approaching engagement area. ‘Jumper One, can you keep out of our ranges? We don’t want any casualties due to friendly fire.”

“Copy that, Icarus One,” John said. “I’d rather not go up with a bang now that you’ve arrived. I’ll be headed planetside.”

“Copy that, ‘Jumper One. Drop your hot potato and go see your city. We’ll try to cut these guys down before they reach atmo. Icarus One out.”

He was banking, the hiveship and _Daedelus_ coming into his windscreen, when he saw a beam of light cut through the darkness of space from Earthship to hiveship.

“’Jumper One, this is _Daedelus_. I sure as hell hope you’re accelerating away from that ship, because the package we’ve delivered is hot and large. You do _not_ want to be anywhere near it when it goes.”

He spared a moment to wonder what kind of bomb they’d planted on the hiveship before survival instincts pointed the puddlejumper down towards the planet’s surface and he arrowed back towards Atlantis.

As he fired more drones at the Wraith darts on his way down, he flipped his radio back on. “Elizabeth?”

“John.” The relief in her voice was palpable and he let it wash over him.

“What’s our status?”

“Hm, I don’t know,” interrupted another voice, grumpily. “How about, ‘We’re under attack’?”

He took pleasure in the sheer annoyance of McKay’s words. Irritating as the scientist could be, it was a relief to know that he was okay. Still, his answer was short. No reason to give McKay ideas about how valuable he was. “Other than that?”

The silence on the other end of the radio probably meant Elizabeth was giving McKay ‘the look’ - the one she saved for when either man was trying her patience. Her response came a few seconds later.

“Major, our skies are still full of Wraith. We have Miller and a half-dozen other pilots who are about to take the ‘jumpers out to join the fight.”

“We’re low on drones.” He meant the city, but it went for his ‘jumper as well. One of the screens flashed a status at him and he grimaced.

“Every dart down is one that won’t be beaming the Wraith into Atlantis, Major. We _need_ those ships out there.”

A thought teased his mind as he fired off another round of drones and dodged some random fire. The Wraith had clued in to his presence, even if they couldn’t see him beneath the cloaking, and one of them had evidently hit upon the idea of scattering random shots through it’s ecliptic plane.

“Don’t we...” He paused and rolled the ship, narrowly missing some shots that came very close to his stern, then continued acceleration down to the surface of the planet. “Weren’t they bringing a ZPM with them? We can use that to--”

He broke off at the same moment as a brilliant wave of light washed through space. It splashed brightly over the hulls of the Wraith darts headed down to Earth, and John winced as the reflections lanced into his eyes, even with the momentary darkening of the windscreen. The flashes were all the brighter after the darkness of space, and his eyes had automatically adjusted to the dark.

“What’s the status of the Hiveship?” He didn’t bother switching the channels back to the _Daedelus_ \- in the background of her mic, he could hear the steady deep voice of Colonel Caldwell asking for Atlantis’ confirmation of the destruction. A nice touch, considering the _Daedelus_ must have sensors would be more than adequate to pick up the explosion - and better placed.

“Colonel, our sensors are just picking up the signal...” She trailed off and he faintly caught the sound of McKay reporting that the Wraith hiveship was gone from the sensors - as were a large number of the smaller Wraith darts that had been caught up in the explosion. This time, when she spoke, he could hear the smile in her voice. “The hiveship has been destroyed.” He could certainly hear the cheers of the personnel in the background. “Thank you, Colonel - and thank the personnel of the _Daedelus_.”

Up in the ‘jumper, John destroyed two more Wraith darts and plunged into the planetary atmosphere. There were a few seconds when he wouldn’t be able to receive any transmissions, but even once he passed into planetary atmosphere, the comms system was oddly silent.

“Elizabeth?” When he received no response, he felt panic lance into him. It was possible that the Wraith had gotten them. The central city wasn’t shielded - it was just marginally less easy to fly over. That didn’t mean it couldn’t be done. “Rodney?”

Then she was there. “I’m fine, Major,” she said, briskly. “Just a little startled. Two personnel and a ZPM have just beamed down into the city. Rodney’s gone to meet them.”

“Beamed down?”

“Beamed down,” she affirmed, even as there were noises in the background and she addressed someone nearby. “Yes. Rodney will take you. Welcome to Atlantis.” A moment later, she addressed him again. “Major, what’s your status?”

“Inbound through the atmosphere,” he replied. “City status?”

“We should have shields in a matter of minutes.”

He nodded. Rodney might have ego enough for a squadron of fighter pilots, but there was no denying he was good at what he did. “Personnel status?”

Silence.

“Not so good.” Her voice held a hesitancy that turned his flesh to ice. As the puddlejumper reached atmosphere, he absently fired a salvo at a Wraith dart that swooped in front of him.

“Who’s dead?” The words sounded flat, even to him.

“We haven’t received anything from Colonel Everett in nearly fifteen minutes.”

It was bad. John didn’t give a shit about Everett - and Elizabeth knew that. Which meant that she was breaking it to him gently.

He wasted two more Wraith darts. “Who’s dead?”

She sighed - the merest breath of air through the microphone. “Lieutenant Ford headed up a group that went into a sector of the city from which we’ve since had multiple Wraith sightings. There’s been no reports back from them in the last fifteen minutes. And we had gunfire at Teyla’s position ten minutes ago and nothing since.”

His team-mates. _Shit._

At that moment, he was so very grateful that Elizabeth was tied to the central city as part of her duties; Teyla and Ford were fighters, they’d have put up a struggle before...before...

John wasn’t going to think about that.

Neither Elizabeth nor Rodney would have stood a chance against the Wraith. As it was, Teyla and Ford would have had little enough...

He _wasn’t_ going to think about it. Atlantis needed him now.

The speck of the city appeared below him, a greyish splotch in the wide blue-green sea, still surrounded by the gleaming slivers of the darts, flying through the spires of Atlantis. He had four drones left - and a package that was still hot.

_Better do something about that._

A quick glance at the cargo hold of the bay confirmed that most of the things behind him were stowed away. Good.

He glanced back at the city. “What else?” John asked, needing someone else to do the talking. He refused to ask _who_ _else_ was missing or dead. He could still take bad news, just not that kind.

_Not any more of that kind just now. Not right now._

She couldn’t hear his thoughts, but she seemed to divine them anyway. “We’re getting scattered reports from the city,” she said, and he heard the radio chatter behind her. “Rodney reports the ZPM is in.”

John saw. The domed shield sprang up into existence around the city, shimmering faintly with power. It took countless lightning strikes to produce a shield for even a few minutes, and the ZPM did it in seconds - and could hold it for thousands of years, as the state of the city showed. “Confirm that,” he said. “Visual on the shield.”

And not just a visual confirmation, but also sight of how it worked.

It seemed that the guys had managed to get the ‘jumpers into the air, because some of the shapes zooming around the city were too bulky to be Wraith darts. And now that the city itself was barred to them, the Wraith were going after the pilots, converging on them, firing on them as the guys tried to dodge and swerve.

One of the pilots was swerving and dodging gracelessly through the air over the city, trying to shake his pursuers, but never quite managing.

John accelerated through the air, well aware that he wouldn’t make it in time for a rescue. There were too many darts and they were far too close...

So far, the pilots had avoided the shield, unsure of what it might do to their ships. But this ‘jumper couldn’t quite stay on track and drifted towards the shield.

There was a moment when John stared the flaming debris of the Wraith ships that had tried to follow the ‘jumper into the shield. Then he veered up, away from the city, elated. The Atlantis ship had slipped through the shield without so much as a scratch or a wobble in the shield.

He set his radio to broadcast along the usual channel. “This is ‘Jumper One, broadcasting in the clear. If you need a break, your ship will pass through the city shields. Repeat; if the pursuit gets too much, then fly beneath the city shields. There’ll be less room to manoeuvre, but you’ll survive longer.”

And right now, it was all about continuing to survive.

“Copy that.”

“Copy that, sir.”

He got similar responses from the other pilots and was relieved not to hear Carson’s voice among them. The doctor was fine at medicine, just shocking at flying.

Of course, the downside of their vanishing was that he was all alone in a sky full of Wraith darts.

And he _still_ had a hot package.

Time to dump the hot potato.

He uncloaked the ‘jumper with a thought, then opened the back of the ship. Gusts of wind buffeted him, ruffling at his hair and depressurising the cabin of the ship. Cool air pulled at him as he carefully tilted the ‘jumper up to the sky and heard the bomb shift against the floor as the inside of the ship began responding to external gravity.

A small ‘hop’ and a complete change of angle, and he was pushed into the back of his chair as the Gennii bomb - unused - tumbled out and vanished into the wide blue sea below.

John closed the hatch, gave the ship a few seconds to regain its internal gravity systems, then dodged as a Wraith dart spun alongside him. A beeping noise indicated that the Wraith were converging on him. The other pilots had gone to ground in the city, to do what they could inside the city’s shields. He was the only one out here, and now that he’d uncloaked the ship to open the hatch, he was a target.

There was only so much manoeuvring he could do, but he did his best. The ‘jumper tumbled and twisted between the Wraith ships, like a fish nimbly swimming through the silver lines of a net.

“Major?”

“I’m kinda busy right now.” He checked his drone count. Four left. And at least forty darts.

At least he wasn’t going to lack for targets.

He fired off two of the drones as he sideswiped a dart. His action had the effect of making the Wraith dart veer, and it clipped another dart too closely as it flew by.

John was hardly breathing, concentrating too hard on evading the shots that were being fired around him. The ‘jumper shuddered as it took a hit, and he fired another drone to take out one of the ones firing at him.

Not that it would make much of a difference in the end. There were too many of them.

The sensors informed him that his own pilots were on their way, targeting the Wraith darts with their own drones, but John was the centre of a maelstrom of enemy ships, swarming around his ‘jumper without relenting.

Why’d he dump the bomb? He could have taken them all out with it if he’d held onto it.

“Major, if you can hold off, the _Daedelus_ reports that its squadron will be with you in--”

“It’s not soon enough,” he said tightly.

“--three minutes.”

“Still not soon enough.”

“The other ‘jumpers are on their way--”

They were at least thirty seconds out. He wasn’t going to last that long. “Did you happen to hear the part about not soon enough?”

“John--”

He narrowly sideslipped another set of shots, but felt the ‘jumper jolt with a direct hit. One of his first trainers had said that evading fire after being hit was like trying to play any game of skill while drunk. The longer it went on the harder it was to do. It could be done well, but it was damned difficult.

Tension crawled up his back and neck as he fired the last drone and dove up towards the atmosphere. If he wasn’t going to survive this, then at the least he was going to put these guys in a position where they’d find themselves facing the _Icarus_ squadron that much sooner.

Explosions dotted the sky about him. He had no peripheral view, but the compression of the blasts shook the ‘jumper. Lots of explosions, and he’d fired nothing at all. The atmosphere was empty of the _Icarus_ squadron, so it hadn’t been them...

“McKay?”

“Well, actually it was Carson,” came McKay’s voice. “No, don’t stop!” The exclamation was exasperated. “Sheppard still has Wraith all over him, you know!”

Distantly in the background, he could hear Beckett complaining about something.

“You’re doing fine, Carson,” Elizabeth said, her voice encouraging. “Just keep thinking about the defence of the city.”

Up in the air and a long way from where the conversation in his ears was taking place, John kept flying. The pressure was easing a little as the other ‘jumpers joined the fray, firing their drones for all they were worth. But it wasn’t going to be enough. “No drones left.”

“No,” McKay answered. “But the ZPM is providing all kinds of unexpected benefits to the defence of the city--” There was a comment in the background from someone whose voice wasn’t quite placeable. “Yes, I _know_ that, doctor. Thank you very much.”

The other person made a faint, dry comment, and fell silent.

John kept his ‘jumper moving evasively. He wasn’t out of the danger zone yet. The sky was still full of armed Wraith darts - although now they had more targets in the other ‘jumpers soaring through the skies.

Another series of darts went up in explosion. “I think that’s all the drones we’ve got, Major,” McKay reported. “We’re trying to persuade Carson to more fully explore the possibilities of the chair but--”

“Can the debriefing wait until later?” John asked.

McKay’s voice took on an equally irritated edge. “I just thought you’d want to know that we’re looking at all possibilities.”

John tumbled the ‘jumper through a series of twists and dives, ruthlessly using the fact that he felt none of the inertial force he’d usually feel moving a ship around like this. “I’d rather not be looking my death in the face if you don’t mind!”

“We’re working on it!”

“Then work faster!”

“I’m--”

“Gentlemen!” Elizabeth’s voice cut firmly through their discussion. “Rodney, get back to work. Major, keep yourself and your ship intact.”

“It’s not like he’s just going to--” Rodney broke off. “No, it doesn’t. We tried it before.” There was a murmur. “You know, I am the foremost scientist on this proj--” He broke off.

John could only hope it lasted.

He certainly wasn’t going to.

The ‘jumper slipped between the humming Wraith darts, drawing them higher, veering madly to avoid the shots that sliced past its hull. But John knew that, good as his flying was, there were too many of them. It wasn’t going to last.

It didn’t.

There was no mistaking the solid sound of a direct hit on his starboard ‘wing’. The ship took on a distinct lean, relative to the surface of the planet, and although John tried to right it, he couldn’t. “I’m hit.” The words echoed in the lonely cabin of the ‘jumper. “Going down.”

“Major--”

There was no time to answer her, he was too busy trying to avoid the other shots that were taking the ‘jumper in the body...

He spun the ‘jumper directly into the thickest cluster of Wraith darts. If he was going to go out, then he’d take some with him.

He had a feeling he wasn’t even going to make it to the sea.

Nope. Not even the sea.

Something sparked behind him, briefly reflecting in his windscreen. It would take only seconds for the heat to ignite something else and it would all be over.

He twisted one last time, saw the hull of the dart as the ‘jumper careened into it, and braced himself for the crash.

Wraith dart and Atlantean puddlejumper fell like stones.

It felt odd to regret that he wouldn’t see the full potential of Atlantis now that they had a ZPM...

“Sheppard, you are _not_ allowed--”

There was a flash of light and a sudden feeling, slightly tingly. Then the world around him was no longer the browns and greys of the ‘jumper, but the blues and greys of another ship entirely.

In his ear, McKay’s sentence continued with only a slight break.

“--die on us. You still owe me for the last cards night and you are _not_ going to renege on me!” There was a pause. “Sheppard?”

The woman standing behind the pedestal a few feet away looked as though she was trying very hard not to smile. She was vaguely familiar, although he couldn’t quite place it. Probably met her when he first came to the SGC. “I’m here, McKay.”

There was a moment of shocked silence on the other end of the radio. Then Elizabeth’s voice came clear through the comms. “Major Sheppard?”

“I’m fine. I’ve been...” What was the word? “...beamed up to the _Daedelus_,” he said. The woman glanced up from whatever she was doing to ‘tidy up’ after herself, and nodded, her lips still curved in a half-smile. “How are the other ‘jumpers doing?”

“Corporal Sanchez is down,” Elizabeth answered. “Crashed into the city, but he’s reporting nothing more than a few bruises. The others are still out there, but they’ve got the _Daedelus_ Squadron--”

“Icarus,” he corrected her. This time, the woman grinned openly as she scraped blonde hair out of her eyes. He grimaced and shrugged at her in automatic defense of his correction.

“Well, whatever they’re calling themselves, they’re doing a good job of mopping up the Wraith darts still flying around.” Elizabeth paused. “I believe we might have won this one.”

John believed so, too.

He turned to the attendant, changing the setting of his mike so he wasn’t sending down to Atlantis. “Is there anything else we can do to help them?”

A little voice that sounded a lot like McKay said, _Anything else, other than arrive a day early, bring a ZPM for the city shields, send in a squadron to rout the Wraith, oh, and beam you up from the burning wreckage of your ship?_

If she was thinking the same thing, at least she didn’t say it. Her lips pursed. “I’m keeping track of your ‘jumpers,” she said. “The most I can do is beam the pilots out before their ships explode - and that’s not easy. Asgard transporters are usually used on stationary objects, and moving objects takes practise.” There was a beep from what appeared to be a lapel mike, and her left hand reached up to her ear while her right kept moving across the board.

John flipped back to the Atlantis channel. “Elizabeth?”

“John.”

“What’s the status of the city?”

“With the ZPM, we’re shielded, but the city appears to be locking down sections of the city where it detects Wraith life signs,” she said.

“And they’ve got our people.”

Teyla and Ford. The Wraith could have Everett if they wante--

John yanked that thought back. _Considering the type of man he was and what we’re up against, I wish he was still here._ No matter how personally annoying the man was, they needed every man and woman they had. Even Everett and his glib assurance.

“We’re going to have to hunt them out,” he concluded. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be back in the city.” He swivelled back to the transporter attendant. “How long does it take to warm it up for another transport?”

Blue eyes regarded him with amusement. “It doesn’t warm up, Major. It can go right now.”

“Then send me down to Atlantis.”

Her mouth quirked slightly. “I can’t do that.”

John frowned. “You just said--”

“You’re to wait for Colonel Caldwell to arrive, Major,” she said. “He’ll be here within five minutes and you’ll be transported down to the city together.”

He didn’t want to wait for Caldwell. “In case you haven’t noticed, my city is under attack--”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Major, your city is no longer under attack,” replied the woman, meeting his gaze with cool composure.

“And you have our thanks,” said John, rapidly losing his temper. She was military - her bearing gave away that much - and nobody of rank would be operating a transporter. That meant he had authority over her. “But I am giving you an order to get me down there right now. The Colonel can follow afterwards in five minutes or five hours.”

Her mouth quirked slightly at his words and, incensed, John narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to ream her out.

The hiss of doors opening behind him made them both turn.

John’s first glimpse of Caldwell was imposing; the man was broad-shouldered and reasonably muscular, not anyone that John would like to fight hand to hand. Caldwell carried his bulk using every inch of his six feet two inches, and a good-humoured expression graced his face as he regarded John.

“Major Sheppard.”

“Colonel Caldwell.” John drew himself up and glanced at the transporter attendant who was speaking quietly with a young dark-haired woman who’d arrived in the train of the Colonel. “I’m sorry we couldn’t meet under less hurried circumstances.”

“I’m glad we got to meet at all,” Caldwell noted. “You’ve done well with what you had.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The Colonel seemed to see that John was in no mood for pleasantries. “I see you’re eager to get back to your city, so if you’ll give Corporal Arslett a chance to get things set up, she’ll beam us planetside.”

John had assumed Corporal Arslett was the transporter attendant who’d brought him up here in the first place, so he was more than a little surprised when the woman joined him and Colonel Caldwell.

“You’re sure that this works?” Caldwell asked the woman, who turned amused eyes upon them both.

“I’ve been in these dozens of times, sir,” she assured him. “And twice today in this one. It works.”

John had time for a startled question - “Twice today?” - before white light coalesced around them. When it faded, they were in the centre of the Atlantis Gateroom.

“Down into the city and back up to the _Daedelus_.” The woman grinned at him from beneath a tumble of short blonde hair.

“Major Sheppard!” The familiar voice made him turn towards the stairs where Elizabeth was coming down towards him, a man following swiftly behind her. John had a moment to recognise the man’s face - he couldn’t remember the name - before she reached them. “Thank you for that rescue, Colonel,” she said.

Expecting her to address Caldwell, John was shocked to hear the woman answer, “You’re quite welcome, Dr. Weir.”

He turned to stare at the blonde. She might have been a few years his senior, but surely not a, “_Colonel_?”

He’d tried to order around a superior officer?

Colonel Caldwell looked from the still-amused woman to John. “I’m guessing you haven’t met Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter then, Major?”

No, he hadn’t. And such was his surprise - both at her rank and her identity - that he said the first thing that came into his head. “_You’re_ McKay’s Carter?”

The man who’d followed Weir down the stairs grinned openly as he pushed his glasses back up his nose, but the blonde’s expression darkened like the twenty-year thunderstorm over the planet.

John winced.

_Oops._


	2. The Colonel

Elizabeth didn’t quite wince as John committed his _faux pas_ with Colonel Carter.

The Colonel looked displeased but answered levelly enough. “No more than you’re Thomerson’s Sheppard.”

_Ouch._ This time, keeping the wince from her face was much more difficult.

Brett Thomerson was the Colonel who’d been commanding Sheppard when he went into Afghanistan after the three trapped servicemen. Thomerson’s report on Sheppard’s actions had been brusque and denigrating. It literally froze Sheppard’s career where it was: the young Major had been immediately reassigned from desert Afghanistan to glacial McMurdo.

John grimaced. “Point taken. Sorry.”

“Accepted.”

In those few seconds during the exchange between John and Colonel Carter, Elizabeth had seen the older, taller man taking the opportunity to look over not only her, but also John and the haphazard disarray of the Gateroom and control area. She supposed it was up to her to begin the introductions. “Colonel Caldwell, I presume?”

He had none of the volubility of Colonel Everett upon entering the city, so far, he’d only addressed the Major, although she suspected that the sharp blue eyes missed nothing. “That would be correct.”

“Ah yes,” Dr. Jackson said, stepping around her. “Colonel Steven Caldwell, meet Dr. Elizabeth Weir.”

“Thank you for the rescue, Colonel.”

He nodded. “You’re welcome.” His voice had been velvet-and-gravel over the comms system; it was even more so in person, and Elizabeth blinked momentarily, then caught the slightest of smiles on Colonel Carter’s face. “Although,” he continued, unaware of her brief distraction, “you should be thanking Colonel Carter and Dr. Jackson. Their work on the Asgard hyperdrives got us here a day earlier than we had planned.”

Dr. Jackson waved a hand as she turned to him. “I bounced ideas, Sam did the hard labour.”

“Well, thank you to all the crew of the _Daedelus_ for a rescue well done,” she said, deciding that she could spread the gratitude around.

“Although it’s not quite finished yet,” John said, stepping into the conversation with aggressive flatness. He turned to her immediately. “Which sectors are segregated and how many people do we have trapped in there?”

“All sectors have corridors that are segregated,” she said. “And too many of our people are in there. Anyone who didn’t evacuate and wasn’t needed in the central city went out to fight the Wraith.”

He nodded, just once. “Teyla and Ford?”

Elizabeth felt a pang of grief. “Still nothing,” she had to admit.

He opened his mouth and was interrupted by a beep from Colonel Carter’s earpiece. The woman turned away, one hand to her ear and speaking softly at her shirt lapel. A moment later she turned back. “Colonel?”

Colonel Caldwell nodded. “I heard. Dr. Weir, Major Sheppard, _Icarus_ squadron reports all planetside Wraith ships out of the sky. They’re tracking the ones that went down and will deal with survivors.” He glanced from one to the other, “Unless you wish to take prisoners?”

“I think we’ll pass,” John said bluntly. Elizabeth shot him a glance for his abruptness.

“That won’t be necessary,” she said to Colonel Caldwell. “However, if you have personnel aboard the _Daedelus_ who are combat-trained, we would appreciate your assistance in sweeping the city.”

“I have two squadron of marines chomping at the bit up on the _Daedelus_,” he noted. “They’re at your disposal to clean up. And glad to see a bit of action.”

Elizabeth wasn’t the most military-minded of people, but that sounded like a significant amount of manpower.

If John thought the same, he said nothing but, “We’ll take them. Get them here in five minutes and we’ll start out.”

He fully intended to lead the group himself. Elizabeth interrupted, concerned. “John.”

“I’m going after them,” he said, as though she didn’t already know that.

The last few days had been stressful enough for him. Although Elizabeth had been responsible for the overall expedition, John had been the military commander. In the nine months of their sojourn here, she’d come to know him well, and he took the protective aspect of his role seriously. Colonel Everett’s glib assumption of command wouldn’t have eased his mind any more than it eased hers.

Elizabeth knew that John might have accepted Everett’s command, but he hadn’t relinquished the responsibility for protecting the city or the people in it any more than she had.

She also knew that he hadn’t slept in over a day. Many of the Atlantis personnel hadn’t. Rodney and Zelenka were running purely on stimulants, and Carson looked as though he’d soon be in dire need of his infirmary. The control room techs had bags under their eyes, and she dreaded to think of how haggard she must look - especially when compared to the arriving force on the _Daedelus_. Both Dr. Jackson and Colonel Carter looked close to immaculate.

“You aren’t going to be any good to them if you fall over in exhaustion before you even have a chance to get to them, Major.” Her voice was hard. It had to be. She was dealing with John Sheppard after all.

He looked at her as though she’d betrayed him to the Wraith, and she felt anger slice through her. Her concern was for their people as much as his; she’d let him fly to his death in the ship with the bomb without anything more than that first protest. But there was a limit to the human body - to the human mind. John Sheppard was way past it.

“Those are _our_ people, Elizabeth,” he said. “We’re not leaving them in the hands of the Wraith!”

“And nobody said you should,” Colonel Caldwell said, neatly inserting himself into the conversation.

Elizabeth felt the urge to brain the commander of the _Daedelus_. It was difficult enough dealing with John Sheppard when he wasn’t determined to do something; with the encouragement of a senior officer, he’d let nothing stand in his way - not even physical exhaustion.

“However,” Caldwell continued, “you might like to wait fifteen minutes.”

Hazel eyes narrowed at him. “Why?”

“Because it will take the troops at least that long to get their equipment issued and for Corporal Arslett to work out how to adjust the transporter to move that many people with Colonel Carter’s assistance. And I need you present for a five-minute debrief before you go hunting Wraith.”

Sheppard wasn’t inclined to wait even that long. “We can debrief later.”

“Oh, I think you’ll want to hear this, Major,” Caldwell said with a faint smile. “Do you have a briefing room around here?”

They were halfway to the briefing room, with John grilling her about exactly which corridors had been shut down by the city computer controls, when they spotted Rodney and Carson coming swiftly towards them.

“I see you made it,” were Rodney’s first words to John.

“Thanks to the efforts of Colonel Carter.”

Rodney positively beamed. Elizabeth tried to hide a smile - and a slight irritation with Rodney’s so-obvious preference for ‘intelligent blondes’ as he termed it. From the terse smile - and her reaction to John’s earlier comment, it was fairly obvious that Colonel Carter wasn’t as enamoured of Rodney as he was of her. “Yes, well, I’m sure that if I’d been there...”

“You don’t know how to operate Asgard technology,” Dr. Jackson noted blandly.

“I’m sure that once shown--”

The group had stopped for the conversation, and more than John was showing a slight impatience with the holdup. “McKay,” Colonel Caldwell rumbled. “Keep moving.”

“And it’s a pleasure to see you, too, Colonel,” Rodney said.

“McKay--” John got no more than that out.

Caldwell paused. “McKay, am I going to have to remind you of the Siberian llama incident?” There was a moment of silence. “_Move_.”

A peculiar expression convulsed across the scientist’s face. “Moving.” He turned on his heel and walked away as the Atlantis personnel gaped at Caldwell.

There was the hint of a smile at Caldwell’s lips as he kept walking.

Elizabeth stared at John, who stared after Caldwell, then looked at her. Carson’s mouth was wide open.

“So, I’m guessing that you two know each other, sir?” John asked when they caught up with the Colonel.

The colonel wasn’t given the chance to answer. “For your information, Major,” McKay said from up ahead, “Colonel Caldwell was the American senior officer at the Siberia research facility where I worked on and off for two years before the Ancient technology was discovered down in Antarctica.”

“We got to know each other well,” said Colonel Caldwell, now disconcertingly affable. “Right, Rodney?”

Rodney’s expression was distinctly sour. Elizabeth made a mental note to weasel ‘the Siberian llama incident’ out of him sometime when he was in a better mood. In the meantime, there were other things to attend to, such as why Colonel Caldwell wanted this meeting.

That soon became clear.

Colonel Caldwell regarded Elizabeth the instant the doors shut behind them, giving the group a small amount of privacy. “Firstly, Dr. Weir, I’m not here to impose on either your authority or Colonel Everett’s.”

His phrasing gave her pause. “My authority?”

Blue eyes regarded her. “You are the leader of the Atlantis expedition.”

“She was relieved by Colonel Everett when he and his task force came through the Stargate,” John said in the meaningful tones of a pointed reply.

Colonel Caldwell seemed more than a little disconcerted at that. “Colonel Everett was to remain in command of Atlantis and the expedition for the duration of the crisis with the Wraith. His people were to bolster your own and provide additional fresh troops. My understanding was that nominal authority would revert to Dr. Weir after the situation settled down. Colonel Carter?”

“That was how I understood it,” she confirmed. “The SGC considers Atlantis a research outpost that is additionally staffed with military personnel.”

“In much the same way that Antarctica and Siberia were military-backed research facilities,” Dr. Jackson added.

“That was not the impression we received,” Elizabeth felt constrained to say.

“He just waltzed in and took it all over,” Rodney said, bristling.

“General O’Neill sent me out here in command of the _Daedelus_,” said the Colonel. “As such, that’s as far as my jurisdiction goes.”

“As such?” John questioned, eyebrows rising.

A hint of a smile touched the wide mouth. “I’m willing to offer advice if you ask it.”

“We’ll have to ask first?” Rodney asked. “How novel. If I recall correctly, you were the one making suggestions every time I turned around in Siberia.”

“That,” said Colonel Caldwell emphatically, “was only because you weren’t taking appropriate measures to ensure the safety of the facility was preserved. At any rate,” he added, forestalling any protests from Rodney, “you may wish for my advice, you may not; I’m free to give it. On the other hand, you will almost certainly want to work with the advice of Dr. Jackson and Colonel Carter here.” He glanced at the pair still standing by the door with a smile.

“And they’re here because...?”

Elizabeth made a mental note to get a hold of the major and shake some politeness into him after the briefing.

On the other hand, neither doctor, nor colonel seemed particularly offended by John’s brusqueness. “We’re independent consultants,” Dr. Jackson explained.

“On loan,” said Colonel Carter. Her smile was wry. “Temporary rather than permanent.”

Satisfaction and disappointment conflicted within Elizabeth. On one hand, two more reknowned intellects would be invaluable to the city - especially now that they’d be in the process of exploring and rebuilding after the Wraith invasion. On the other hand, it was only going to be a little while. “How temporary are we talking?” Elizabeth inquired.

“Three months,” Colonel Carter said easily.

“After which, we have orders to get our asses home, or else,” added Dr. Jackson with good-natured tolerance.

Not unexpected. The General was known to be very fond of his old team-mates, and in spite of their entreaties, neither had been allowed on the initial Atlantis expedition.

“And, speaking of orders,” Colonel Caldwell noted, patting down his flak jacket, “the reason for this meeting... I have something for Sheppard.” He fished a small plastic bag out of one of his pockets and tossed it over to the Major.

John caught it and held it up to see what was in it. Elizabeth squinted as the light gleamed silver off the bag’s contents. She thought she caught sight of a jagged edge and frowned, then stared as her mind put everything together.

“There’s usually a ceremony for this kind of thing,” continued Caldwell, half-smiling. “Of course, the general, being as he is, handed me the bag and said, ‘Promote him to light colonel. The man’s earned it at least twice over.’ Congratulations, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard.” He saluted the newly-promoted officer.

A moment later, John scraped his shocked senses together and returned the salute. He still looked slightly stunned, but at least he was moving.

“Well done, _Colonel_,” Elizabeth said, leaning slightly on the title. John looked over at her, and she saw the gratification in his eyes and smiled. He definitely deserved it.

“Does this mean he’s going to get even bossier?” Rodney demanded, and this time Colonel Carter and Dr. Jackson didn’t bother to hide their smiles. Neither did Caldwell.

“What do _you_ think, McKay?” John replied as he pocketed the insignia.

Rodney grumbled, but even Elizabeth could see that he was reasonably pleased for the other man.

Colonel Caldwell shifted position. “Now,” he said, “go and get your people, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard.”

She was so caught up in watching John that she nearly missed the moment to intervene.

“John,” she began.

He cut her off, “I’m going, Elizabeth.”

“Sheppard, you’ve been up all night,” Rodney said, joining in the argument. “You’re not going to be much good if you just fall over on your feet.”

“If I fall on my feet, then I’ll be fine,” said John with gritted intent.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it! What good are you going to be to Teyla or Ford if you’re half-asleep?”

“I’ll get Beckett to give me stimulants.”

“And I’ll order him not to,” Elizabeth said. “Believe me, Maj-- _Colonel_, we want our people back - all of them, unharmed. But you’re in no condition--”

“Then who else are you going to send?” John demanded. “Sergeant Michaels? Sergeant Pyne?”

She hesitated. She knew it was a mistake, but she hesitated. He had the truth of it right there, and was intelligent enough and fast enough to use it again her. They _had_ no-one else to send - no-one who knew the city and was accustomed to facing the Wraith.

He exhaled. “I’m the military commander of this base. In the absence of Colonel Everett - and given that Colonel Caldwell has already said he has no direct jurisdiction in Atlantis - that leaves me as the senior command personnel.”

“Technically,” Rodney said.

“Technically’s enough,” John said.

Elizabeth was trying to remember how to breathe. She was also trying to remember how to count to ten in Swahili. Because if she didn’t count to ten first, she was going to say or do something to John Sheppard - Lieutenant Colonel or not - that went against all her diplomatic training.

“And this is one of those moments when I’m going to offer advice without being asked,” Colonel Caldwell said with distinct dryness, interposing himself into the middle of the argument. “Colonel Sheppard, as a general rule, it’s bad form to explicitly throw around the fact that you have command. Dr. Weir, neither is it a good idea to use seniority to plant obstructions in the way of him and let him know - it’s a lot more effective to let him think circumstances are being a bastard. And Rodney, I see you still haven’t read ‘_How to win friends and influence people._’”

“Haven’t got around to it yet,” Rodney muttered.

“It shows.” Caldwell folded his arms over his chest. He glanced around the room. “Now, since I don’t have any authority in Atlantis, I can’t exactly order Colonel Sheppard not to go. On the other hand, I _do_ have authority over the two dozen marines that have just been beamed down into the gateroom. Which gives me what’s called ‘leverage’.”

“Colonel--” Elizabeth began.

“Colonel--” John said at the same time.

Caldwell held up his hands, silencing them both. “I’m going to _advise_ that Colonel Sheppard lead the marines into the first engagement with the Wraith. After that, I’m going to advise that the Colonel return to the central city with the injured and allow the fresh troops to get on with flushing out the Wraith while he deals with the other issues that are going to crop up in the aftermath of the attack.”

It was a compromise. Not exactly what she wanted, but better than John exhausting himself to get their people out. And he would, she knew, because of who he was.

“And if we choose not to take that advice?” John’s voice had an edge to it.

Caldwell shrugged. “Then you choose not to take that advice.”

“And you choose not to let us have the marines after all,” Elizabeth stated grimly.

“From the sound of it, you’ve got people trapped and held by the Wraith,” the Colonel said. “I’m not such a bastard that I’d leave them in the hands of the enemy; but I don’t want to see Colonel Sheppard - or any other personnel from this facility - running themselves into the ground on rescue missions. You get one chance to help rescue your people, then my people will take over that job. We’re fresh, you’re not; fair’s fair.”

“And you think that’s reasonable?” Sheppard demanded.

“I think it is,” Caldwell said. “Take it or I’ll give my men the order to find a pair of handcuffs and chain you to a railing somewhere in the city.”

Elizabeth choked a little, biting back a smile at the image. Across the room, Rodney was spluttering.

“That sounds more like ‘blackmail’, sir.”

“A senior officer never blackmails, Sheppard,” Caldwell said, half-smiling. “He applies leverage.”

John regarded the older man flatly. “Consider the leverage applied, sir.” It was the closest he was going to come to a state of formal acquiescence. He wasn’t happy, but he was outgunned.

Elizabeth was relieved. She might have to talk to Colonel Caldwell about any other methods he had of working with intractable officers. In the meantime, she had a base to restore - and a military officer’s authority to re-establish. “Colonel Caldwell, if you would please bring your men up here, we can begin working out the details of the first attack.”

Caldwell gave her a nod that seemed as much a bow as anything else and left without a further word, still smiling.

Rodney huffed, but waited until the Colonel had left the room. “You know, I used to hate it when he did that.”

“You still do,” noted John.

Elizabeth cut them both off before it could turn into a sniping match. There were moments when she desperately wished that someone else was in command of these two - and moments when she was glad it was her and not some other person who could less-ably handle them. “Major--” She paused, recollecting herself. “_Colonel_. We have a plan of the city with the sealed-off sections marked if you’d like a map of where the Wraith are likely to be.”

“The city seems to be cutting off sections reached by the Wraith,” Rodney added. “The outlying piers are almost all blocked off by now - but there are one or two sections closer to the centre of the city that have been sealed off.”

“And our people with them.” John’s grim statement echoed Elizabeth’s feelings about it, but she answered evenly.

“Perhaps from the city’s point of view, it’s preferable to lose some of its people rather than let the Wraith through.”

He fixed her with something close to a glare, and she met it with direct calm. She was concerned for their people, too; but she could do very little about the personnel captured by the Wraith. Her primary concern was the city and the expedition overall - it had to be.

“I’m still going in.” It was intended as a challenge.

“As if we were expecting anything otherwise,” scoffed Rodney.

Elizabeth tried to bite back a smile at the scientist’s pithy comment and failed. As she caught John’s glare, she hastily said, “Rodney, will you pull up a map of the city and show us which sections are being cut off. Let’s go through all the possibilities before we begin the rescue mission.”

John narrowed his eyes. “We?”

“Atlantis,” she replied. She was in this, just as much as he was.

After a moment, he nodded.

It had been enough time for Rodney to bring over his screenboard and hook it up to one of the screens on the walls.

“So,” he began. “Where do we begin?”


	3. The Consultant

The voyage to Atlantis had been a tense one. Concern about what they might find on the other end of the trip had preyed on the minds of all the personnel on board the _Daedelus_, including Sam.

Of course, she’d distracted herself by thinking up ways to cut time off the journey in order to minimise the length of time that Colonel Everett and his forces would have to hold the city.

Thank God for Daniel. He wasn’t as good as the General at keeping her sane through the weapons of distraction, teasing, and good-humour, but their interaction had provided inspiration - for them both, she suspected. And it was a relief to have someone around who knew how her mind worked. He probably thought the same.

Sam still couldn’t quite believe they were finally in Atlantis. It was unlike anything she’d ever imagined or seen. She hoped she wasn’t walking around looking quite as dazed as she felt. Daniel had promised to nudge her ungently if she started getting starry-eyed; she’d promised to do the same for him.

Watching Sheppard get his silver leaves brought a smile to her face. It reminded her of her own promotion ‘ceremony’ - the General smirking at her as he pinned the oak leaves to her shoulders. Had it really been a year ago?

So much had happened since then.

Not the least of which was that she and Daniel were standing here in Atlantis, about to go up against the Wraith. Well, _she_ was about to go up against the Wraith. Daniel could do as he pleased. He usually did anyway.

“...best entry point would be in wing A.”

“You don’t even know if the city computer will let you into the Wraith-infected sections,” McKay was arguing.

“If it doesn’t, we’ll find a way past it.” Sheppard turned. “Or our new consultants can.”

Three pairs of eyes looked at her and Daniel, and Sam glanced at her team-mate and decided that now was probably the time to speak up. “Actually, if Colonel Sheppard had no objections, I was going to join Colonel Sheppard and the marines.”

Joining them would give her first-hand experience against the Wraith as well as first-hand experience of how the military command-chain worked in Atlantis beneath Sheppard.

Technically, Sam didn’t need to ask for his permission. Like the marines, her chain of command ran through Colonel Caldwell, however it would be polite to make sure that the senior personnel of the city were on-side before joining the task force.

The reactions were interesting, to say the least.

McKay opened his mouth, probably to protest that she shouldn’t be putting herself into danger. Dr. Weir caught his eye, sent him a quelling glance, and he subsided. Sam made a mental note to ask Dr. Weir how she did it.

Dr. Weir glanced at Colonel Sheppard, indicating that she considered it his decision. Coming from a background where the most senior person on a project was inevitably military, Sam was intrigued: was this the usual way Dr. Weir ran the base? And if so, how did she deal with an intransigent military?

Sheppard, on the other hand, was studying her. Sam fought back the instinctive urge to ‘straighten up’ as though she had something to prove. She proven herself in command and in battle to the people, as her rank would attest. On the other hand, she didn’t exactly look like a commando. He’d have his doubts.

Considering it was his people captured, he was almost entitled to his doubts.

General O’Neill had taken a liking to him from the first, though, and Sheppard had done extraordinarily well out here, bereft of any of the usual lines of command that he’d have been used to. In the same set of circumstances, Sam couldn’t say she’d have done half as well as him. And she had a feeling that this man wouldn’t dismiss her lightly.

Even if he _had_ initially labelled her ‘McKay’s Carter’.

“Will you accept my command?” He met her gaze squarely.

A reasonable request. “Yes.” He had the experience of the Wraith, she was the newcomer in this. She’d accept his command for the time being.

He nodded once. “Then you’re welcome to join us.”

“Sam...”

She’d expected Daniel’s protest. “Daniel.”

“Isn’t it a bit early to go rushing into the fray?”

“I’m sure that they can do with all the help they can get.”

“And I’m pretty sure that...certain people would have things to say about your going in. We are consultants.”

The ‘certain people’ hint could only have been less subtle if he’d emblazoned it on a billboard. Yes, Jack would probably have words to say to her about putting herself on the line; but that was Sam’s job as a member of SG-1, and she’d been doing it for eight years now. She wasn’t about to stop just because she was in another galaxy.

Still, Sam had an answer for him. “And if we’re going to properly give advice, then it might be a good thing to have all the information about the problem?”

The set of his mouth indicated that he was far from happy about the situation, but he indicated the plans that the Atlantis leaders had pulled up while she and Daniel were arguing. He might disapprove, but she wasn’t under his command.

On the other hand, he might very well take it to Colonel Caldwell who _did_ have the authority over her.

She hoped he wouldn’t. The last thing she needed or wanted was a conflict between what Daniel felt she should be doing and what she felt needed to be done.

“You know,” Sheppard was saying as he paused in the middle of pointing at one of the screens, “Why don’t our arguments ever end like that, McKay? You just give in?”

Sam hid a grin and caught Dr. Weir doing the same thing.

“Well, I don’t know,” McKay retorted. “It might have something to do with the fact that they’ve been doing that for seven years.”

“Eight,” Daniel supplied. The glance he shot at Sam was dry. “Are we certain that there’s no chance the Wraith can be picked up from outside the city? Is the shield still in place?”

“Oh, please. The shield held back the sea water for ten thousand years - powered by three ZPMs. If, as you say, this ZPM is fully charged, then we could hold the shields in place indefinitely.” McKay spoke scornfully and Daniel’s eyebrows lifted in skeptical query - and possibly a little professional pique.

Sam knew how that felt. The old irritation with McKay rose, undinted by the months in between their last meeting and this.

“And if it isn’t fully charged?”

“If it isn’t fully charged,” came a new voice from just outside the door, “then you have nothing to worry about anyway.” Colonel Caldwell walked in, leading a group of heavily armed marines into the room.

“The _Daedelus_?” Sam asked.

“The _Daedelus_ has done a sweep of the space around the planet, checking for Wraith ships. Nothing.”

“Nothing _yet_,” Dr. Weir said. Her qualifier was a reminder of the circumstances and situation that had faced the expedition since they’d arrived here: uncertainty at every turn, hoped-for-alliances turning into enemies, and the Wraith always upon them.

“We’ll review what we have on the files to see if any of them managed to jump out of the system before being destroyed, but otherwise, there aren’t any of their ships in space, and _Icarus_ One is reporting that the Wraith ships that were going around Atlantis are down.” The austere face smiled slightly. “I think that you’re in the clear.”

McKay muttered, “For the moment at least.” He glanced at Sheppard, “Those two corridors leading up to that wing have broken sections of wall from storm damage. Get in there, and you’ll have access to the sections of the city and you won’t have to break any doors to get into the wing.”

“But we’ll have to break doors to get to those corridors.”

“Not necessarily,” McKay said smugly. “The transporter near that section of the city links with Wing A.”

Sheppard frowned. “But then we need to get to Wing A.”

“Sheppard, think with your brain for a moment, okay? Wing A has the upper balcony on it. Get one of the pilots to fly you in to that balcony, drop you off, you transport over to Wing D and go in up against the Wraith. Easy.”

Sam hid a grin as Dr. Weir and Colonel Sheppard exchanged long-suffering glances over McKay’s head. It was a relief to know she wasn’t the only one who found McKay’s manner irritating.

Sheppard straightened up and regarded the marines who’d flowed into the room behind Colonel Caldwell and were taking up space around the perimeter of the table. “Who’s your leader?”

“I am, sir,” the man stepped forward and saluted crisply. “Captain Hank Abrahams.”

“Captain.” Sheppard glanced around the room, including Sam in his gaze as he met the eyes of the people he was supposed to take in against the Wraith. “You all know what the Wraith are? What they can do?”

Captain Abrahams spoke. “We’ve read the mission reports you sent back to the SGC, sir. They were standard reading material for all personnel making the trip out here.”

“They were?”

“I can see that they’d want personnel to be aware of what they were getting into,” Dr. Weir said.

“Actually, it was more of a....training manual,” Daniel explained. “Quite a few of the personnel who came along on the _Daedelus_ knew nothing of the Stargate program or the Antarctica base.” He shifted, slightly uncomfortably. “We kind of used it as a ‘Guide to the Universe 101’ course.”

McKay snorted. “Of all the things you could have said about the universe to these people, you had to begin with the _Wraith_? Why not the Asgard, or the Tok’ra? Even a crash course in Douglas Adams would’ve been preferable...”

“I believe that ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy’ is one of the movies we brought along on the _Daedelus_, McKay,” Colonel Caldwell rumbled pointedly. “Let’s get your people out of the hands of the Wraith _first_ and then we can debate induction procedures for the _Daedelus_.”

“Thank you, Colonel,” Sheppard said, looking up from the map he’d been studying and fixing first Sam and then the marines with a very direct gaze. She met the hazel eyes evenly, knowing that he was measuring them all up, uncertain of their skills, unsure if he’d be able to trust them to watch his back.

She couldn’t really blame him. In the same circumstances, she’d be as uncertain of the newcomers, too.

But she and the marines were all that he had until his own people - weary from the days long siege - returned from their tasks about the city. If they all returned.

He was commander enough to recognise that.

“Well, if you’re ready to go, let’s get you armed and out.”

\--

Their first port of call was not to the ‘jumper bay, but to the armory, where they were each issued with a Wraith stunner.

Sam hefted the weapon in her arms, trying to get a feel for it. Around her, the marines were doing the same, murmuring comments to each other as they did so. She listened with half an ear, and absently turned in a circle, the better to get the feel of how it might impede her movements.

Colonel Sheppard leaped back, just in time to avoid being smacked in the hip by her weapon, and Sam stepped back, grimacing. “Sorry.”

He winced. “It’s okay,” he said. “Though you might like to be careful where you wave that thing.” The hint of humour in his voice alleviated his words.

She gave a little smile. “I’ll be sure to wave it at the Wraith, then.”

His nod was terse. “Are you sure you want to join us?”

Seven years of experience as the 2IC of SG-1, and one year as the CO gave her the necessary self-control to keep her temper and avoid snapping at him - that and the knowledge that he’d been through a tense couple of weeks.

“General O’Neill requested my personal report when I return from Atlantis, Colonel,” she said, keeping her voice even.

In return, Colonel Sheppard’s expression darkened slightly and his words were flat. “We sent the reports.”

“You did,” she returned. “But one of the reasons that Daniel - Dr. Jackson and myself were sent was because we’ve had experience with a variety of alien incursions and can give him an evaluation of the kind of threat we’re facing in relation to previous threats with which he has experience.”

Sheppard didn’t look entirely convinced.

Sam sighed as she put the stunner down, resting the tip on the ground. “The General trusts your leadership, Colonel,” she pointed out. “He wouldn’t have authorised your promotion otherwise. But he feels that he can gain a better grip on the situation through the views of two people who are familiar with him and his experiences.”

She met his gaze, the hazel eyes studying her intently until he took a deep breath, and nodded. “All right, then.” He glanced down at the stunner, resting on the ground. “You going to be okay using that?”

Sam hauled it back up into her arms. “I’ll get used to it,” she said.

It wasn’t as though she’d have a choice.

Then again, as she took the seat behind the driver and peered through the windscreen of the ‘puddlejumper’, she considered that she could always go back to the central city and do as Daniel was doing - poring over the city mainframes.

One glance back at the marines rapidly filling in the rear compartment of the ‘jumper negated that thought. Besides, she supposed wryly, she’d faced worse than this before.

Combat situations never ceased to send a niggle of fear down her spine, though. She and the rest of her team had cheated death so often that there was a point at which she began to wonder when their luck would run out.

Then they lifted off, and the fear vanished like morning mist.

In her more thoughtful moments, Sam admitted she was something of an ‘adrenaline junkie’. She preferred to think of it as ‘explorer of worlds untold’. As Daniel said, it sounded so much better. There was so much universe out there, and even in their travels through the Stargate, they hadn’t plumbed more than a fraction of its possibilities.

She’d ridden in one of these ships before, but there was something amazing about the walls of the ‘jumper bay moving smoothly past the windscreen, without so much as a jerk or a pulse of energy to mark the propulsion - only the faintest of mechanical whines.

It honestly blew her mind.

And then there was the sight of the city as they emerged out of the bay...

Sam had occasionally allowed herself to get sidetracked over something interesting while off-world. Compared with Daniel, she wasn’t as prone to moments where her scientific side went, ‘_Ooh, look! I wonder how they did that!_’ Part of it was her military training, and part of it was simply that she usually liked to give something her full attention when it came to study.

Before today, she’d only seen the city through one of the files sent back to the SGC from Atlantis - an aerial shot taken with a hand-held videocamera by some brave passenger who held onto the side of the ship as a pilot circled the city. Even on the film, it had been awe-inspiring.

In real-time, it was beyond words.

Although the city was broken and damaged and would need a lot of work to give it even a fraction of its former splendour, the architecture and engineering of it blew her away.

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

Dragging her eyes from the screen, she caught Colonel Sheppard’s faint smile at her interest and grinned in response before she turned back to the sight of the city. “It’s amazing,” she admitted.

“Well, we’ve got a few repairs to do,” he said, “but...yeah. Amazing about covers it.”

She could hear the pride in his voice and smiled at it. Then the sound of the marines in the back of the ship reminded her that this was a rescue mission, not a recon. She’d have time to look at the city later; right now, there was an enemy to face and people who needed help.

She checked her pockets and gripped her weapon a little harder.

“Colonel, are you _sure_ you want to come along on this mission?” Sheppard interrupted her, and she realised that he’d seen her shiver and interpreted it as dread of facing the Wraith.

Sam met his gaze. “I’m certain.”

His expression showed his doubts, but neither he, nor the marines Captain had authority to make her stay behind - and Colonel Caldwell wasn’t here to order her to remain behind. Sam was going.

Besides, the General would be wanting that report.

As the pilot manoeuvred the ‘jumper into position just off the balcony and lowered the ramp, she stood up and felt the weight of her dogtags slip into the cleft between her breasts, beneath flak jacket, shirt, and her sports bra. The slight weight of them reminded her that she also had a promise to keep, and she briefly touched her fingers to the metal bits on the chain around her neck.

The wind buffeted them as they alighted on the balcony and moved swiftly into the city.

Inside, the whistling of the wind died away as the doors slid shut behind them, and Sam had a moment to appreciate the design before they were moving. Her initial arrival in Atlantis had been hurried as she was transported down with Daniel and the ZPM. She’d had barely enough time to glance around at the city as McKay hustled them through to the city core with their precious burden.

She had no time to look around her now, either.

Sheppard was leading the group briskly through the halls. He stopped at a set of doors and did something to the control panels so the doors slid back. “This is a transporter,” he said, and pointed at the display. “You touch where you want to, and it’ll take you to the nearest transporter in that area.” He indicated a section on the screen. “This is where we’re headed, so if the first group will shuffle in...”

Sam slipped in with the first group and watched as the doors shut, then opened - on a completely different corridor.

“Wow,” one of the marines muttered and was swiftly shushed by a glance from one of his fellows.

‘Wow’ about described it.

Sam wondered if McKay had managed to work out just how the transporters worked yet, or if he’d been busy with more immediate technological details - like the city shields.

As the second group arrived, she focused herself. Time for those questions later; rescue now.

They moved through the wing with brisk, quiet steps, pausing at each intersection to check for enemies.

The wall damage from the storm was considerable, leaving a gap large enough for even the most bulky of the marines to clamber through. The glimpses of the siege’s damage to the city through the windows was worse.

She was given no time to consider the damage.

As they made their way down a long corridor, a group of four Wraith rounded the distant corner.

The rescue team had nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. It was attack or nothing. Colonel Sheppard was the first to fire upon them, aiming his stunner with deadly accuracy. The foremost among the Wraith keeled over like it had been hit by a brick wall.

The world around Sam condensed into a melee of shouts, the ‘_whomp_’ of the stunners and the cries of those hit. The marines at the front of the group had kneeled down to clear the way for their team-mates to fire over their heads, and she took advantage of the tactic to aim her stunner at one of the distant, pale figures.

They were taking mild losses; two men were down and a third beside Sam was hit, even as she got off a shot at the last of the Wraith. A moment later, Abrahams was checking out his people.

“Are they breathing?” Sheppard’s enquiry of Abrahams was terse.

“Breathing,” the captain reported, kneeling down beside one of the injured men. “How long will they be out?”

Sheppard’s answer was grim. “Too long.” He lifted his stunner and pumped another shot into the fallen creature. Sam grimaced at the sound. It _sounded_ painful. “This’ll give them some time to recover - but I don’t know if it’ll be enough. They recover pretty fast.”

Sam walked out past the marines, following the other Colonel over to the Wraith. She’d seen the video of ‘Steve’ the Wraith, and these looked little different. Some had what looked like masks down over their faces - although they looked no nicer than the ones whose faces she could see.

They really were the stuff of nightmares.

“Why not shoot them?” The question came from another marine as he stood beside Sam.

“Gunshots would carry,” she answered, without looking at Sheppard.

“And you need at least one clip per Wraith,” he added.

The marine shrugged and pulled something out of his vest. “I got a silencer, sir.” He intercepted Sam’s astonished stare - silencers weren’t standard issue for marines - and looked sheepish. “Boy scout, ma’am.”

Sam grinned, then glanced at Sheppard. Sheppard looked a little put out. “Didn’t have any of them handy in Atlantis.”

While the marine sergeant disposed of the Wraith with a few bullets to brain and throat, Sheppard divested them of their stunners and laid it down by one of the unconscious men. Several of the marines had already moved into wary positions, ready to keep going.

As she glanced back at the prone bodies of their people, an idea came to Sam. “Would an adrenaline shot wake our guys up?”

“Might,” Sheppard admitted. “Beckett never mentioned it.”

Probably Dr. Beckett had found his hands full with a lot more things than whether or not adrenaline shots would revive personnel who might otherwise wake up normally. Atlantis had limited supplies, after all.

Something to look into, anyway.

“We’re ready to move out, Colonel,” Captain Abrahams reported a moment later.

Sheppard glanced at her, and she shifted the stunner in her arms.

She was ready.


	4. The Fight

It was the noise in Teyla’s mind that wrestled her out of somnolence into wakefulness.

There was a moment when a thousand sensations battered her consciousness; hunger and satiation, pain and pleasure, relaxation and restiveness, and many others. They swirled through her, like dark water through pale cloth, disorienting her senses, then ceased as consciousness intruded.

A gasp escaped her throat.

“She’s coming around,” someone murmured, and there was the sound of footsteps coming closer, the tactile contact of a hand on her shoulder, warm and familiar in its grip.

Her eyes opened to Aiden leaning into her line of vision. “Teyla. You okay?”

“Aiden?” She struggled into a sitting position, vaguely aware that the buzzing had eased but not ceased. “Where are we?”

“Some part of the city,” Aiden said. “Prisoners of the Wraith. In a pretty hopeless situation.” The youthful face developed a wry twist to his lips. “Not much new.”

Teyla smiled at the momentary humour. “Not much new,” she agreed, looking around her.

It was an internal room within Atlantis, one of the few without windows facing out. There were maybe twenty-five people in this room, Athosian and Atlantean. Most of the Atlanteans were people who had arrived with Colonel Everett only two days ago, and they were arguing softly among themselves.

Her own people looked fearful - as well they might. They were in the clutches of the Wraith, and few - if anyof their people - had survived the Wraith.

A glance at those of her people present showed none of the ones with whom she had been scouting through the city, and she felt grief rise briefly in her throat, before she silenced it. She would mourn their deaths later - if there was a later.

“Are you well?”

Aiden’s mouth twisted again. “We’re alive. For the moment. No telling how long that will be.” He sat back on his heels. “We’ve been looking at ways out. None yet.”

She studied his face, familiar and known. “Have they fed?” The look in his eyes said much. “How many?”

“Four. One of your people, three of ours.”

Four too many.

Teyla climbed to her feet, absently stretching muscles stiff from lying on the floor. And stopped.

As a child, she had learned the ‘noises’ in her head that told her when the Wraith were close. Now, with the help of Dr. Beckett’s science and Dr. Weir’s translations, she knew it to be the hum of alien minds in her own consciousness.

Louder than it had ever been before - louder even than it had been when she ‘walked’ the Wraith ship in the mind of one of them - it sang in her ears, across every nerve. Only once before had she felt this thrumming in her head, so constant, so loud. That had been when Major Sheppard and his people had first come to Athosia and she had been captured by the Wraith and taken aboard one of their large ships.

And now it seemed they had Atlantis.

Would Earth follow soon after?

“Teyla?” One of the Athosians approached them. “They came and took Kiaran. We tried to resist...”

She laid a hand on his shoulder, grieving for him. He and Kiaran had been longtime friends, rarely seen out of each other’s company. It was a hard thing to lose one so close. “You did what you could, Jerrin,” she reassured the young man.

“But still they took him!”

He did not seem reassured by her words, and she indicated the Atlanteans who were now speaking with Lieutenant Ford. “They also have lost their people and were unable to prevent them being taken,” she pointed out. “We are all in difficult straits here.”

The sound of muted arguments turned her head. Over by the door, Colonel Everett’s people were talking intently among themselves. They made no move to include either Lieutenant Ford or the four scientists from Atlantis in their plans. In that, their behaviour reflected Colonel Everett’s initial behaviour towards the original expedition members upon his arrival in Atlantis.

Teyla did not know this ‘General O’Neill’ of whom she had heard Major Sheppard speak. However, he did not seem like a very thoughtful man, to send in a commander who had no respect for the ones who had gone before.

Then again, she reflected, Colonel Sumner had possessed the same disdain for those not of his group. Perhaps it was that she and her people had been fortunate in Major Sheppard and his willingness to be inclusive - at least to her and her people.

With a squeeze of Jerrin’s shoulder, Teyla went to speak with Aiden. He might know little more than she, but even that much would be preferable to the silence and uncertainty. “We have no news of the outside?”

He shook his head. “For all we know, the city’s in the hands of the Wraith.”

“If the city was in the hands of the Wraith, we’d be in cold storage by now,” one of the scientists commented.

“Unless we’re refresher snacks,” remarked another Atlantis scientist dryly.

“Thank you for the image, Andrew,” the first scientist retorted.

“Hey, I’m just the messenger, Tere.”

By now accustomed to the peculiar humour of the Atlanteans, Teyla was not disturbed by their exchange. It alleviated the very real fear they were probably feeling - the same fear she was feeling.

Her people were less innured to such humour. Elis was staring with her mouth wide open, and several others were distressed. Teyla moved to reassure them.

As she passed the door, the buzzing in her head grew louder, and Teyla whirled on the balls of her feet even as the door opened and the Wraith stormed in.

She blocked the blow of the first one, her fingers closing around the wrist of the hand that would have sucked life-energy from her body. A hard yank hauled him off-balance and Teyla swung him towards the door, throwing him towards the other Wraith entering the room.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Lieutenant Ford moving to intercept the next Wraith as it lunged towards the hapless scientists.

A glimpse beyond the door showed unfamiliar men in familiar uniforms fighting against the Wraith with stunners. She thought she caught a glimpse of Major Sheppard’s dark hair, but she had no time to look further. Another Wraith was coming for her.

They were being rescued.

Relief surged but was swiftly curbed by practicality.

To truly be rescued, they would have to survive beyond this fight.

They were doing their best.

Behind her, the Atlantis personnel were fighting the Wraith with the hands and fists that were all the weapons they had. Some had already fallen; even as Teyla turned to defend against a new attacker, she saw one man’s skin wrinkle and crack with age as the Wraith sucked the life-force from him.

This new opponent was stronger than the last - prepared for her blows and defences. The teeth bared in a grin of malevolent pleasure as she parried and panted.

The sensations that had battered her upon waking were beginning to return in strength - a gnawing hunger and a desire for the hunt, the kill. It disoriented her - all the more since there were now clearer, stronger emotions mixed in through the sensations. Anger and frustration, disdain and contempt, but also an anticipation of a time when there would be no end to the feeding.

Pleasure shot through her, the satisfaction of a kill. It surged through her with a tingling shock, like a fragment of generator power lancing through her flesh. A face flickered before her, staring hollowly into her eyes, then swam into nothing. She gasped, sickened.

One of the Wraith had fed.

The sensations flowed through her, stronger than she could block or ignore. She hardly saw the next blow by the Wraith that took her across her cheek and rattled her teeth. Her jaw ached, and her head spun as the sensations caused by the presence of the Wraith intensified, dizzying her. The follow-up blow was even harder, and although she blocked it with one arm, she had to step back to compensate for the force of it.

Her foot stumbled over something behind her and as she went down, twisting her ankle, the Wraith struck her again.

The blow knocked her into a world where everything had a hazy look to it, like cold fog blurring her vision.

Beneath her arms, the floor was cold - but not as cold as the death she saw in the Wraith’s eyes: the same death that had come to the man or woman over whose dessicated body she had fallen. Yet she felt no fear. Fear was a distant thing, it could not break through the cacophony of noises that had risen in her head to feverish pitch.

The Wraith kneeled down beside her, grinning obscenely as one hand reached out towards her.

Something in her fought, screamed, protested this death. She would not fall to it. By her father’s line, she would not!

From within her boiled up all the anger and hatred she felt for the Wraith, the sickening disgust at what they were, what they did to her people - and more: the terror she felt at the knowledge that she possessed some part of their nature - the ‘DNA’ that made up the flesh of her body.

As the hand reached out to her, her mind screamed defiance, a desperate desire to live.

The Wraith’s nostrils flared. Its eyes widened. It jerked slightly.

And then a stun blast hit it from the side, toppling it sideways.

The clawed hand drifted across Teyla’s waist - a perversion of a caress - and she pushed it back, almost sobbing. Something was running down her lip, heavy and sticky. Her hand came up and found blood dripping from her nose.

“You okay?” A woman - human, unfamiliar, blonde, blue-eyed - paused beside her and tossed her a square of material. Teyla wiped her nose and managed an answer.

“I...I am fine.”

Her rescuer studied her a moment. “You’re Teyla, right?” A moment later, a gun and a spare clip tumbled through her hands. “You know how to use one of these?”

Teyla glanced up to answer, and saw a Wraith approaching behind the woman. “Behind you!”

The woman turned, hands fumbling with the stunner. The creature reached her before she could get the stunner working, but her blow to the creature’s jaw was not hard enough to halt it.

In her mind, Teyla felt the triumph of the Wraith as it struck the other woman in the chest and gripped, draining life from the woman like water through a punctured waterskin.

She was hardly aware of the cold, hard metal in her hand, although the sound of the gunshots was still loud enough to deafen in the middle of the fray.

The Wraith stumbled back, letting go of its victim as the bullets embedded in its throat and shoulder. The woman collapsed to the floor, shocked rather than dead, but Teyla couldn’t spare her a glance. She had not killed the Wraith, only gained them a little time. Knowing it to be futile, but unable to reach the stunner, she emptied the clip into it, aiming for the head and shoulders rather than the chest.

It was not enough, and she knew it even as she fumbled with the spare clip. It hissed at her, contemptuous in its dismissal of her actions, and came for her with a renewed fury. The other woman was spurned with one foot as it strode towards Teyla and grabbed her by the throat.

She couldn’t breathe, could hardly think through the noise in her mind, like an endless thunder. She could _feel_ her death in the mind of the Wraith that held her, a slow, painful dying, insignificant in the eyes of her killer.

The terror that previously prompted her own mental response was gone now, emptied of anything but the hunger and anger of the Wraith before her.

Dark spots began appearing before her eyes, but unconsciousness didn’t come so fast that she couldn’t feel the cold of the clawed hand pressing her ribs, clammy, even through the material of her top.

Dimly, she heard a stunner shot discharge into the Wraith.

It was the last thing she heard before they crashed to the ground and her mind and body, overtaxed, gave way to unconsciousness.


	5. The Waiting

Rodney was itching to try everything that he and the other scientists had hypothesised was possible in a city with a fully-powered ZPM.

Right now, he was trying none of it.

He was watching the large screen that displayed the section of the city where Sheppard was staging the rescue - along with most of the rest of the personnel in the control room - and keeping track of other sections of the city that were ‘shut down’ which was code for ‘had Wraith in them’. A working ZPM did amazing things for the city’s capabilities.

Even those who had other tasks to do in the control room would periodically pause in their work to watch the screen. Sheppard’s comm had been knocked out early on in the fight, and there was too much happening to keep track of every life signal on the board.

“Are fights against the Wraith usually like this?” Dr. Jackson asked, watching the screen as though his life depended on it. “The odds, I mean.”

“Well, we wouldn’t really know the odds,” Rodney pointed out. “We’ve never encountered more than one or two at a time.”

“This is the first massed attack we’ve encountered,” Elizabeth said, turning from her position in front of the screen. “We know their tactics when they’re in the air, and once they have prisoners, but we’ve never yet fought them in these numbers.”

“An unknown quantity,” rumbled Caldwell.

“Yes, I suppose that’s one way of putting it,” said Rodney. “But Sheppard’s reasonably good at getting out of these things.”

“That would be why you’ve been staring at the screen these last ten minutes, then?”

Rodney glared at Caldwell. The other man shrugged in disingenuous innocence. “John Sheppard is one of my colleagues. We have a healthy respect for each other.”

“Which includes worrying over him like a mother hen?”

“I am not--” Rodney paused. “Oh, very funny, Colonel.”

Caldwell was unrepentant. “Still the same old McKay.”

“You expected anything different?”

“Well, I hoped.”

Rodney caught Elizabeth’s lift of the eyebrow and shrugged. He wasn’t going to explain.

Meanwhile, Caldwell had turned towards the man who’d just climbed the stairs up to the control panels and was waiting with the expectant air of a man who would be noticed sooner or later, and it didn’t really matter which to him. “Yes, Sergeant?”

The man’s voice was low, but perfectly clear. “Sir, the _Daedelus_ quartermaster has the first shipment of supplies ready for transporting. He wants to know when Dr. Weir would like it down here. And where.”

Rodney turned. “Supplies?”

“First shipment?” Elizabeth echoed, astonished.

They looked at each other, and although Elizabeth didn’t say as much, Rodney just knew that the same thought had occurred to her at the Colonel’s words. _We didn’t really think that much about a time _after_ we’d defeated the Wraith._

Part of him pointed out that they hadn’t entertained the prospect of defeating the Wraith at all.

Caldwell looked from one to the other. “Do you have storage rooms?”

“The E-wing warehouse would be a good place to set it down,” Elizabeth said after a moment. “Rodney?”

“Can it be...” Rodney coughed. “...beamed down anywhere in the city?”

Faced turned to Dr. Jackson who looked surprised for a moment. “Anywhere in the city,” he confirmed. “We might have to rearrange the loads to have them neatly stacked but we can get your goods to where they’re needed.” He paused and looked at Elizabeth. “If Dr. Weir assigns someone who knows the city to go up to the _Daedelus_...”

She instantly looked to Rodney.

“No,” he said firmly. “I’m not leaving here until Sheppard gets back.” He owed it to Sheppard - and to Ford and Teyla who were still missing and more unlikely to be found with every second that passed. “Besides, I’m a scientist, not a quartermaster.”

If Grodin had been around... He closed his mouth around the words. No time for regrets, not now.

“Then maybe Corporal Parks?” Elizabeth said.

Rodney just nodded, not trusting his voice.

Caldwell began giving orders, occasionally pausing to ask questions of Elizabeth or Dr. Jackson.

Rodney stared back at the screen, barely noticing what the Atlantis computers were telling him. Grodin had been an excellent technician. Not as good as Rodney, of course, but a good man, nevertheless. Maybe even a friend?

God knew he didn’t have so many people he considered friends that he could afford to lose them. Which was why he was waiting for news of Sheppard, Teyla, and Ford.

They - and Elizabeth and Carson and Radek - were the people who put up with him - granted, amidst much eye-rolling and knowing smirks - and the people who were closest to him. And for Colonel Carter who, in spite of all her faults, was as lovely and enchanting as ever.

“Rodney?” Elizabeth paused beside him, and he hastily tried to cover up his absent-mindedness. “You’ve been staring into space for several minutes now.”

“I...” He caught Caldwell’s raised brow and hastily improvised. “I was just considering the possibilities of the city now that we have a ZPM. And wondering if we could use the new capabilities of the city to help Sheppard, Colonel Carter and the others.”

Elizabeth nodded. “When we’ve finished locating the Wraith, and,” she added, with a sharp glance at him, “once you’ve had enough sleep, I promise you can play with the city to your heart’s content.” Green eyes twinkled gently, flustering him enough that he looked back down at the screen and searched for appropriate words.

“I don’t know,” he said. “My heart’s content might be a bit longer than you think. I mean,” he rephrased hastily, seeing the look Caldwell was giving him, “there are a lot of things that I’d like to try, and the Wraith are still out there.”

Her mouth quirked slightly. She really was quite a lovely woman. “You’ll have at least a few days to work out what the ZPM can do for Atlantis.”

“You’re assuming there won’t be any major crises in the meantime.”

“Well, I suppose we could always call on Colonel Carter and Dr. Jackson to help solve the problem.”

Rodney opened his mouth to protest. Atlantis was _his_ city! _He’d_ been working on it from day one, even back on Earth at the Antarctica base. There was _no way_ he was going to let two ‘consultants’ from the SGC walk in and start solving _his_ problems! Besides, they didn’t know how to handle Zelenka - or any of the people in the city. They were _his_ people - in a kind of non-proprietary way - and if anyone was going to help them, it was _him_.

Then he saw the way her mouth had slipped sideways and half-scowled. Now she really _was_ teasing him.

“Oh, ha-ha,” he responded sourly.

Elizabeth grinned and lightly squeezed his shoulder then straightened abruptly as their earpieces squawked. “Major Sheppard?”

Rodney mouthed, ‘_Colonel_,’ at her and received an impatient wave as they waited for the next response to the hail.

“Colonel?”

There was a hiss of static. Then a voice that was certainly not Sheppard’s.

“Dr. Weir?”

“Colonel Carter,” Elizabeth’s voice had gone slightly flat, not at the Colonel, but at the fact that Sheppard hadn’t answered. “The rescue mission?”

“The Wraith are disabled, Dr. Weir,” the Colonel said, with a slight husk to her voice. “Casualties both among the rescuers and the victims. Colonel Sheppard is fine, but we have a number of injuries here - both the locals and Atlantis personnel. He’s leading them to the infirmary now.” She paused, and there was the sound of discussion in the background.

“And losses?”

The control room was holding its collective breath, waiting for the bad news.

“The rescue team has three dead and two stunned.” Another background exchange and then the Colonel’s voice again, gaining steadiness. “Assorted minor injuries but no serious damage sustained. Of the captured people we found here, seven are dead - drained by the Wraith.” A note of distaste entered her voice. “Judging by their dress, four were locals, three were Atlantis personnel.” There was a pause. “We’ll need a mortuary detail here with stretchers. And someone to cart the Wraith away to any holding cells you have.”

“We’ll send them in,” Elizabeth assured them, looking to Caldwell. He began issuing quiet orders to another Sergeant who’d recently arrived in the city. “How are you, Colonel?”

“I’m fine, Dr. Weir,” Carter assured her. “Really.” A moment later, she added, “You can let Daniel know that this is the ‘I really am fine’ fine, and not the ‘I’m just saying I’m fine to get him off my back’ fine.”

Rodney glanced over at Dr. Jackson who had been frowning until then. He half-smiled and shrugged.

“We’ll have some personnel over to you as soon as we can get them through the city,” Elizabeth was reassuring Colonel Carter.

“They should be able to take the direct route. Colonel Sheppard said something about the city re-enabling thoroughfare through pacified regions before he left for the infirmary.”

“We’ll keep that in mind, Colonel. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Dr. Weir.”

Rodney was already on his feet as Elizabeth terminated the call. He directed Sergeant Pyne to sit at his station so she could keep an eye on the city, but his concern was, most immediately, for Sheppard - and whoever else was with him in the infirmary. Behind him, he could hear Elizabeth giving both Dr. Jackson and Caldwell instructions, and a moment later, they were jogging towards the infirmary.

“Do you think...?” It was only to him that Elizabeth would have dared to voice her concerns over Sheppard.

“He’ll be fine,” Rodney said immediately. “Probably all ready and rared up to go out a second time.”

“Remind me to ask Carson...”

“...to give him a sedative?” Rodney snorted. “He’d just ignore it and keep going.”

“Then remind me to get the handcuffs Colonel Caldwell mentioned.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Bondage, Elizabeth? Never knew you had it in you.”

She flushed, but rolled her eyes at him, and he smirked but said nothing more. He didn’t often have the opportunity to tease her. Or the privacy to do so with impunity.

The infirmary was crowded with medical personnel and patients. Various injuries were being tended, and quite a few curtains were drawn around the beds. They were directed to one of the adjoining rooms and threaded their way through the injured and wounded, nodding at the people they recognised, but looking for Sheppard.

Amidst the melee of people and the background hum and chatter of voices in a multitude of dialects, it was relatively easy to pick out one Scottish accent. Carson was expostulating at someone with all the displeasure of a doctor asked to do something of which he steadfastly disapproved.

There weren’t too many people reckless enough to brave Carson’s considerable displeasure. As one of the personnel originally from the SGC had commented, you didn’t piss off the person who’d jam a needle in your butt the next time you needed your immunisation shots. Then again, Sheppard had never worked at the SGC.

“Look, we’ve still got people out there!”

“Aye. And they’re going to be out there a while yet,” Carson was saying as Elizabeth and Rodney paused at the door. “You’re not going anywhere, Major. Elizabeth gave me strict instructions.”

“Oh, she did, did she?” Sheppard’s jaw was set in stubborn lines.

“She did. And right now, I wouldn’t clear you to sit beside Teyla’s bed.” Sheppard involuntarily glanced towards the bed where Teyla was laid out, apparently just sleeping. “You’re going to lie down and rest. Whether it’s with or without a sedative is your choice.”

Rodney felt a brief surge of relief at the mention of Teyla’s name. One more person accounted for. One less person to mourn. He covered it with his usual defence. “I see that exhaustion hasn’t made you any less pugnacious, Sheppard.”

Sheppard turned on his heel and glared at them while Carson’s face took on an expression that plainly said, ‘Oh, thank God.’ “I see it hasn’t made you any more tactful, McKay.”

“See, you’re assuming I had tact in the first place.” There was a comfort in the familiarity of their verbal parry-and-retort, something to cling to in the face of everything that had happened.

“Of course,” the other man retorted. “Silly me.”

Elizabeth interrupted them before Rodney could respond. “Colonel. I take it you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “More than can be said for some.”

“Teyla?”

Rodney caught the momentary stillness around his team-mate. So, too, did Elizabeth.

“Ford’s dead.”

Beside him, Elizabeth shut her eyes. Rodney swallowed hard. He hadn’t been close to the young lieutenant - not as close as he was to Elizabeth, or Sheppard, or even Carson, Radek, or Teyla - but Ford had been a good man, if occasionally rather more quirky or bossy than Rodney liked. “How?” They owed it to Ford to know how he’d died.

“Drained by the Wraith,” said Sheppard tightly. “When we attacked the Wraith, they started killing the hostages. Most fought, but they didn’t all make it.”

Ford would have fought. That didn’t need saying. Rodney looked at the grim regret on his team-mate’s face and knew that the death hadn’t been nice - not that death ever was.

“Anyone else we know?”

“Not closely. A few of Everett’s people - that gunnery sergeant who was making a fuss about our ammo, some of the Athosians, and three of Caldwell’s marines.”

“And Teyla?” Elizabeth asked.

Rodney glanced over at the Athosian. She seemed peaceful enough, no IV-drip attached to her, only a small monitoring machine. Carson didn’t seem too worried about her condition, so she was either beyond his help or not in need of it.

“Teyla’s physically fine,” Carson said, moving aside as a couple of medical personnel passed by, carrying various medications and injections. “She’s better off than many of the others. The Wraith struck to kill, but didn’t always manage to finish draining them.”

Rodney remembered Gaul’s slow death, drained of energy and life, half-embalmed by the Wraith for ‘later eating’. The memory had given him more than a few nightmares, where Gaul accused him of stealing not his life but his career. He hadn’t seen any people looking like that around here, but then, maybe the Wraith hadn’t actually tried to embalm them - just to drain them.

“So we’ve got personnel...?”

“Half-dead,” Carson said, sparing neither himself nor any of his listeners. “Some are in shock, but a few are comatose.”

Elizabeth winced, but nodded. “Do you need anything? Personnel, supplies...?”

“If Colonel Caldwell has any personnel with experience in field medicine, they’ll be very welcome here,” Carson said. “That and a miracle healing device would come in useful.”

“Unfortunately, I left my miracle healing device back in the control room,” Rodney remarked. “Elizabeth?”

Her look was both amused and exasperated. “You’re doing an excellent job, Carson,” she said. “Be sure to get some sleep yourself.”

The Scottish man smiled briefly. “I’ll do my best.” He turned to Sheppard. “Now are you going to lie down yourself, or am I going to have to put you under?”

Sheppard looked around, seeking an ally. He found none in Elizabeth’s gaze, and Rodney certainly wasn’t going to rescue him from this. The man had to be tired. Heck, Rodney was feeling a little on the tired side himself - although he would never admit anything of the sort.

“Can’t I stay here?” John gestured to the seat beside Teyla’s bed.

Carson shook his head. “There’s no space, Major. Besides, you’d be better off somewhere where not so many things will be happening. We’ll keep Teyla here just in case, but you’d rest better in your quarters.”

He submitted, although reluctantly. He was considerably less pleased when Elizabeth stationed two of Colonel Caldwell’s personnel outside his door to make sure he wasn’t disturbed. Rodney hid his smirk - although not so swiftly that Sheppard wouldn’t see it.

There were times when it was most satisfactory watching Sheppard get his come-uppance.

Of course, his glee was mitigated by the fact that Elizabeth promptly turned on him as they began to walk away from Sheppard’s quarters. “Rodney.”

“What? Oh, no - not yet.”

“You haven’t slept for at least as long as Sheppard.”

“But I took stimulants!”

“You need rest. Real rest.”

Rodney frowned. “You know, I can’t be the only one who’s tired...”

“One of us has to stay and oversee the city,” she said. “You spent most of yesterday working on the chair, and most of last night working on the Gennii bomb.”

“And you...” He paused, waggling his finger at her, trying to remember what she’d done. “Okay, so you must have done something.”

She tapped her cheek, activating her earpiece. “Carson?”

“Dr. Weir?”

Rodney scowled. He was outgunned and seriously annoyed. “We’ve got a ZPM all ready and raring to go - and we haven’t even tried the full range of possibilities...”

“You can try them _after_ you’ve gotten a good eight hours of sleep.”

“What? That is so unfair!”

She smirked. “Life doesn’t come with a ‘fair’ sticker on the side, Rodney. You get some sleep.”

He could tell that she was going to hold her ground on this. Fine. If he was going down, so was she. He thumbed his earpiece on. “Beckett?”

“McKay, I know it’s hard for you to understand, but in spite of being the doctor around here, I am not permanently on call!”

The grin they shared was automatic, but McKay had decided something. “I’m about to go and have a lie down. Minus sedative, thank you. However, I want you to check up on Dr. Weir in another two hours. If she’s not in bed, then sedate her.”

“I am the leader of this expedition, you know.” But she was more amused than offended. What was good for the gander was good for the goose.

“Then we’ll get Caldwell to send the chief medical officer from the _Daedelus_ down,” Rodney said. “Beckett?”

There was a long-suffering sigh at the end of it. “Lord, listen to you two. Rodney, go to bed. Elizabeth, go do whatever you have to do and take a rest in two hours. My medical advice. Now please go away and leave me alone, I’m busy.”

Rodney tapped off his earpiece. “Two hours.”

Elizabeth smiled, her mouth tilting up on one side in good humour. “I promise.”

He waited until she’d gone down the corridor towards the control centre before he headed off towards his room. He’d never have admitted it to her, but the stimulants were wearing off, and he _was_ feeling a little bit tired.

Yes. A sleep would do him good. He’d have the rest of his life to play with a fully-powered Atlantis, after all.

Rodney fell asleep dreaming of the possibilities.


	6. The Mourning

He rested his forehead against the cool sheets of the infirmary linen and listened to the sounds of the infirmary.

Patients shifted in their beds, uncomfortable in their injuries; medical personnel murmured softly to each other, and Beckett’s distinctive accent underpinned the conversations. Machines beeped as they monitored vitals, and footsteps moved across the floor with steady paces and irregular pauses.

John Sheppard clung to the casual noises of the infirmary, something solid and reassuring in the chaos that was presently Atlantis.

It all happened so fast.

First Colonel Everett’s relief, then the arrival of the _Daedelus_. The battle in space, then the battle over the city. Colonel Caldwell’s announcements and assistance, then the rescue of the hostages.

His head still ached, thinking about it, and although he’d slept for a good six hours, he wasn’t rested.

However, Caldwell was temporarily minding the city after Elizabeth had left orders that John wasn’t to be admitted back to active duty until tomorrow morning - another ten hours. She’d set things up so his commands were not valid, his access was denied, and Caldwell told him he wasn’t to involve himself in the clean-up activities at all. He was to rest.

Having left her instructions with Caldwell, Elizabeth had gone to her quarters for sleep, and apparently so had McKay, although John couldn’t see McKay leaving the ZPM-fuelled city to Colonel Carter and Dr. Jackson. It just wasn’t McKay. Then again, Caldwell seemed to have rather unorthodox methods of dealing with intransigent scientists and insubordinate subordinates.

He’d been permitted in the infirmary on sufferance. Beckett had somehow gotten enough naps in to satisfy Caldwell that he was capable of performing his duties, and was disgusted to see John up and about. He responded to Beckett’s threats to sedate him with the request to sit by Teyla.

Right now, John needed reassurance that at least one of the people close to him was alive and well, even if he did need sleep.

Beckett let him sit by the bed. It was a compromise of sorts.

He’d been reassured that it wasn’t unconsciousness or shock. She was physically fine, but her body - like so many others - had been taxed beyond its ability to easily recover, and her system insisted on sleep. She might wake up in the next hour, the nursing staff told him, or she might not wake up for another day.

John didn’t really care one way or the other. He just needed the presence of someone he trusted - someone who trusted him back. Elizabeth and Rodney were in their quarters and he wouldn’t disturb them, and Ford was one more desiccated body lying in the city’s morgue.

Teyla was it.

He pressed his forehead deeper into the mattress, trying to cool his head and his thoughts. His back and neck ached with tension, and he blew out a long breath.

They’d won the battle for the city. They’d lost people, good people like Ford and Grodin and too many others. And now they had to extinguish the fires and rebuild.

At some point, there’d be a memorial service; the organisation of what was to happen to the bodies of the dead. Elizabeth might letters to write to the families of the personnel, but John should do some of them, too - Ford’s for a start.

God, he was going to miss the young marine. McKay was fine to grumble at, and nobody could match Teyla for a good fight, but Ford had understood his thinking and the reasons he made the decisions he did - a shared piece of their respective military backgrounds.

He shut his eyes and clenched his fingers.

The mattress shifted, but John never moved.

After a moment, he felt the faintest trace of air ruffle the strands at the crown of his head as someone reached out to touch his head, but stopped just short of contact.

He raised his head and met her gaze.

“Aiden’s dead.”

The words slammed into him like fourteen gees of force. For a moment, he could barely breathe as she said what nobody had yet said. Not out loud. Not to him.

Junior officers had died under his command before. The sense of failure never went away.

Still, John met the clear, intense gaze Teyla levelled at him, direct as always. “Yes.”

She closed her eyes. “I saw him die.”

John was reminded of watching Colonel Sumner’s death: the hollow aging that did in moments what usually took years. Teyla had seen and known people taken by the Wraith, but there was a difference between knowing what was to happen to the people siezed during raids, and seeing it happen.

“Could you help him?”

Her eyes opened sharply at his question. “No.”

“You saved others.”

“But not Aiden.”

“I couldn’t save Colonel Sumner.”

She watched him for a long moment. “It does not make acceptance any easier.”

“It doesn’t get any easier to accept as time goes on.” Dr. Heitmeyer had told him that after that first mission - the one in which he’d awoken the Wraith.

“He was a good man,” she said, and her gaze dropped to the bed and her hands on the covers. “How many others?”

“Too many.”

Her lips pressed together. “And yet one is too many.”

“Yeah.” John scraped a hand through his hair. “McKay thinks we might be looking at fifty percent losses.”

“Too many.”

“Yeah.” He watched her a moment more, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. He hesitated, feeling more than a little unwelcome here and not entirely sure why. “Halling was asking after you.”

She seemed surprised. “He was?”

“Beckett wouldn’t let him in.”

“Yet he allowed you in.” He caught the direct regard of her gaze and shifted, self-conscious. Teyla could set a man at ease with her gaze or make him distinctly uncomfortable. Right now, it was uncomfortable. As in _very_ uncomfortable.

He covered it with a light-hearted comment. “I make a pretty good argument.”

She smiled then. Only faintly, but better than the intensity of her gaze, distracting him. The amusement was short. A moment later, she was once again sober. “I have not yet told my people of Dr. Beckett’s discoveries regarding my abilities. They may not wish me to continue leading them once they know that I am descended of the Wraith.”

“I’m sure they’ll trust in your leadership abilities the way they always have,” John said, trying to reassure her. And failing. Miserably.

“Thank you,” said Teyla. “But I do not believe that they will accept it so easily.”

“Do you accept it?” After a moment, he plunged on, figuring he was in for a penny, he might as well be in for the whole shiny silver dollar. “I mean, you say your people won’t accept you because you’ve got some Wraith DNA in you. But you’re still you. Like I’m me. With or without the Ancients gene.” And right now, he was wishing that the ATA gene gave him a supernatural ability to explain things, because he had a feeling he was making a hash of this.

This wasn’t the time to discuss her abilities - not while she was still laid up after the Wraith attack.

“I do not have a choice in accepting or not accepting,” Teyla said, after a moment’s thought. “And it is not the same. I have grown up with these...instincts. It is a part of who I am. You have come to it fully grown. It is not so much a part of you. That is different.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s that much--”

“If your ability to use the Ancients’ technology was taken from you, you would still be able to function in your society.”

“Yes.” John could see what she was saying and he didn’t like it. At all. “Teyla, you’re you. You’re not the Wraith, you’re not something evil just because you can sense the Wraith coming.”

Yeah, he was making a mess of this. And he’d like nothing more than to shut down the conversation and never speak of it again. This was Weir’s job. Or Dr. Heitmeyer’s. Hell, even Rodney or Carson would be better at this than he was.

But he’d put his foot in it, he had to clean things up. And that meant keeping going, even if all that was left was a mess.

“You’re still on my team,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I still want you on my team.” Teyla would understand what he was saying.

Her head bent a little, a tiny nod, like the ‘friendship gesture’ her people made to each other. “Colonel Everett may disagree with you.”

So she hadn’t heard.

“Everett’s dead,” said John flatly.

They’d found the drained and desiccated body only a few hours ago, identified by his tags. Caldwell had brought the news to John. “A lot of things have happened in the last day,” he said, rather more grimly than he’d intended.

“Oh?” Teyla settled back, apparently willing to let the matter of her Wraith background slide for the behind moment. John figured she might need some reassurance later, but right now, they were good.

“Well, we’re not under Wraith attack any longer.”

She nodded. “I had noticed that. Did more people arrive from your world?”

“In a ship - the spaceship _Daedelus_. They brought more people, more supplies - they even have a squadron of ships that can fly in space or in atmosphere!”

Vaguely, John was aware that Teyla’s expression had settled into the smiling tolerance she always displayed rsation when he got into one of his ‘hobbies’ and started talking about one of his interests. Her curiosity about Earth and its ways continued, but the concern about the Wraith had limited their discussions about the ways of Earth.

It was a relief to do something lighthearted again. God, how long had it been since he hadn’t had the weight of the city and its survival pressing down on his shoulders?

Too long.

“Will you be able to fly them?” Her question drew him back from his thoughts.

“I’m sure that Captain Saunders will be happy enough to give you an introductory lesson,” came a new voice from the door.

John stood to turn, and experienced a momentary dizziness before he managed to find his balance again. Just tiredness, that was all. “Colonel Carter.” He spotted her companion, following a few steps behind her. “Dr. Jackson.”

He’d heard plenty about these two during his time in Atlantis. Of course, he’d met Dr. Jackson the day he’d discovered about Atlantis and the Ancients, the Stargate, and the SGC. No surprise that he hadn’t remembered the man’s name: so much had happened that day.

“Colonel Sheppard,” Dr. Jackson said, before he turned to Teyla. “And I’m guessing that you’d be Teyla Emmagen?”

It was up to John to do the introductions. “Teyla, these are Colonel Carter and Dr. Jackson of the SGC.”

She inclined her head to both of them. “It is a pleasure to meet you both. I have heard you spoken of by many of the people in Atlantis. Dr. McKay has spoken particularly well--” Teyla paused as Dr. Jackson gave a shout of laughter.

“I think you’d better get used to that, Sam.”

“Ya think?” Colonel Carter retorted. A glance at her showed her more amused than offended. This time she wouldn’t be biting off anyone’s head. “At least it sounds like he’s saying good things.”

“About the love of his life?”

“I’m sorry,” John interrupted, unable to stop himself. “The _love_ of his life?”

Colonel Carter’s snort was succinct and telling. “In his dreams.”

“That _is_ what he said in the message.”

“Daniel, has anyone ever told you it’s rude to read other people’s mail?”

“I’ve said before, it’s not my fault that Jack had Sergeant Ramsey and me going through the video messages,” said Dr. Jackson, pompously. He reminded John a little bit of McKay, bulling through one of his ideas with all the panache he could muster - and changing the topic as soon as he could. “As you can probably tell, Sam and Dr. McKay have a somewhat...adversarial relationship with each other.”

“Sounds like McKay,” John quipped and saw Colonel Carter cover her smile. A glance at Teyla showed that she’d eased back against the pillows, more comfortable with the strangers in the face of the teasing.

“Dr. McKay is not well-known for his tact,” she said.

“Old habits die hard?” Dr. Jackson offered. Then he coughed, looking a little abashed. “Okay. We should probably pay out McKay when he’s around to fight back. More sporting.”

“I don’t have a problem with it,” Colonel Carter said.

Dr. Jackson snorted softly.

Teyla was watching them was something like a half-smile as they bickered in the manner of siblings or a married couple, long familiar with each other’s habits and ways. Her eye met John’s and he grinned at her. The more lighthearted attitude was very welcome after the days of stress and worry, sharp tempers and short fuses.

Colonel Carter quirked a smile and turned to Teyla. “I actually came around to say ‘thank you’ for the rescue.”

John stared at Teyla in surprise. “Rescue?”

“I...” Teyla seemed to be struggling to remember. “It was when you and Colonel Carter broke in. The Wraith attacked us, trying to gain extra strength. Some of our people died.” The flicker of a shadow passed across her face and was gone as she looked up at Colonel Carter. “There is no need of thanks. You saved my life in turn. However, you are welcome, Colonel Carter.” Then, as though the question was pent up within her, she asked, “What will be done with the dead?”

John opened his mouth, then realised he didn’t know.

Dr. Jackson and Colonel Carter exchanged looks, and, after a moment, Dr. Jackson said, “That’s apparently a matter up for debate. Caldwell assumed that a military burial wouldn’t go amiss. One of the scientists objected because not all the dead were military...”

John met Teyla’s eyes, then turned back to Dr. Jackson. “Ponytail and glasses?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Dr. Kavanaugh,” Teyla said at the same moment as John asked the universe in general, “Why am I not surprised?”

Dr. Jackson grinned. “There’s always one.”

John grimaced. “One too many.” A sense of responsibility nagged at him. “I should go and put in my oar. If I’m allowed.”

“Supposed to be resting? This sounds familiar.” The look he exchanged with the Colonel was tinged with sadness, a memory they shared that was private and painful.

“We left them going at it, hammer and tongs,” said Colonel Carter after an uncomfortable moment. “Colonel Caldwell looked like he was about to lose his temper.”

John snorted.

“I understand that is not a difficult thing with Dr. Kavanaugh.” Teyla offered. “Or so feel many of the scientist personnel.”

“I might head back in, then,” John said, making up his mind. Sure, Caldwell would just say he was off-duty, but he was used to dealing with Kavanaugh by now - and the scientist’s peculiar hatred of the military.

“I might head back with you,” Dr. Jackson added with a quick glance at his friend. “If that’s okay.”

“Suit yourself.” John shrugged as he turned away, but was stopped when Teyla caught his hand.

Her warm fingers closed around his cool ones in a swift, hard grip, but she said nothing. John squeezed back and shot her a quick, tight smile, then left her and Colonel Carter in the infirmary together to discuss whatever it was that had brought the Colonel to the infirmary. It certainly wasn’t just to say ‘thank you’ for saving her life.

They wove their way through the infirmary beds and the medical personnel manning them. Beckett gave them a wary look as they passed him, but John gave his most innocent look, and the doctor rolled his eyes but didn’t come after him with a sedative.

Still, John breathed a lot easier once he was out in the corridor.

“The medical personnel can be pretty scary at times.”

John glanced at the man who walked beside him. “Beckett’s not so bad. It’s just that he sometimes gets this look...”

Dr. Jackson gave a short laugh. “The chief medical officer at the SGC - Janet Fraiser - she was small, but scary.”

The past tense was small but telling. John had the feeling that it wasn’t because Dr. Fraiser had been reassigned. He didn’t ask, and after a few moments, Dr. Jackson changed the topic.

“You’ve done really well, you know. I don’t know if anyone said this to you - probably not, since we arrived in the middle of the fight for the Wraith, but Jack - General O’Neill - is impressed.”

John tried to remember the last time a superior had been pleased with his work. He could hardly recall, it had been so long ago.

After Afghanistan and Thomerson’s scathing report, John’s desirability as an officer had plunged among regular commands. While the Air Force wanted combat-trained men and women, they wanted combat-trained men and women who would obey the rules and not run reckless.

The Antarctica post had been the best of a bad option: ferrying people from McMurdo to the base in the middle of nowhere. He got to fly - which was what really mattered - and although the conversations with his passengers could be weird, he put it down to far too much research and not enough fresh air.

And then one morning General Jack O’Neill hada sat down opposite him and began with the blunt question, “_Why’d you go back for them_?”

Back in Atlantis, Dr. Jackson was still waiting for an answer, so John waved his hand dismissively. “I’d say the promotion was a bit of a hint.”

“A bit. But it never hurts to be have it said again.”

“And you think I need reminding?” John wasn’t sure why Dr. Jackson was taking such an apparent interest in him. He’d had trouble remembering the guy’s name. They’d barely talked in Antarctica.

The other man stopped in the hallway. “I think you’re at a point in your situation where you’re questioning your leadership. No surprise there - you’ve been so busy reacting to everything around you that you haven’t had time to sit back and relax in long memory.”

John paused and turned back to face him. It _had_ been a long time sincehe’d had time for himself and not the expedition’s needs. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that, if you want,Jack - General O’Neill - is willing to relieve you of command of Atlantis and reassign you anywhere you’d like to go. Within reason,” he added.

Several moments passed, during which John listened to the distant noises of peoplemoving through thecity’s corridors and wonderedif he’d heard right. “Reassignment? From Atlantis?”

Dr. Jackson nodded. “Anywhere you want to go.”

John considered it. Unlike others in the expedition, John Sheppard had left no family behind, no dependants. He had few friends and fewer ties to them. And nothing he’d done on Earth could hold a candle to the madness of his life since he arrived in Atlantis.

Besides, who’d take over in his absence? Another Everett-type with more mouth and bravado than consideration and balance? Someone else with even less qualification or readiness to manage the balance between the military and scientific parts of the expedition? That wasn’t even counting the contribution of the Athosians, who tended to get left out of things more often than not.

Sure, John hadn’t been doing all that great at the job what with waking the Wraith and making enemies of the Gennii, but he hadn’t been doing _that_ bad in dealing with it all. At least, he didn’t think so. And General O’Neill didn’t seem to think so, either - he’d promoted John to light colonel. That counted for something.

Reassignment? Like hell.

John tried to think of a polite way to tell Dr. Jackson what he could do with his reassignment, and settled for,“I’m happy here.”

It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go.

It wasn’t like he had anyoneelse he cared about.

And maybe Dr. Jackson understood that. The look he gave John certainly went on for long enough, before the heavy brows drew up then together, and the man smiled. “I was charged to ask what you wanted. But I’m glad you’re going to stay.”

“So’m I.” And he was. He really was.

Dr. Jackson indicated the corridor before them - the corridor leading back to the control room. “After you, Colonel Sheppard.”

\--

It was nearly midday when the last Athosian was laid in the ground.

From within the puddlejumper hovering high above the ‘cemetary’ where the Earthlings, adopted Atlanteans, and Athosians now lay, John listened to Elizabeth as she gavethe final eulogy.

“...challenged with impossible circumstances, they found a way. When faced with desperate times, they did not give up. Death never comes easy, but they faced it bravely and their deaths bought us what we all strove to achieve: Atlantis still stands.

“We will grieve for them and mourn their deaths; but we know their sacrifices, both those they made in life and those they made in death, were made so others could keep going with what they began. Their legacy will liveon in what we do from this day forward, and they will not have died in vain.”

The burial ground was a point far distant from the idling puddlejumper, but John fixed his gaze on the tiny, brown-haired figure distantly visible at the podium. Her words carried through the air to the assembled people. Through her communicator, they passed to Atlantis and the skeleton crew still in the city, were transmitted up to the crew manning to the _Daedelus_ up in orbit around the planet, and up to the ‘jumper pilots and the pilots of _Icarus_ squadron, hovering in the air several miles distant from the burial ground.

Someone - a sergeant from the _Daedelus_ \- began playing ‘Taps’. The long, measured tones of the bugle call rang through the communications system, and John switched to a private channel shared by all the ships. “All ‘jumpers and _Icarus_ squadron, be ready to move on my mark.”

“Copy that, ‘Jumper One.”

He waited until the final tones of the bugle rang clear and strident in his ears, then switched back to theprivate channel. “Three. Two. One. _Mark_.”

They made a magnificent sight as they cut through the air in a display of precision flying that was made easy by the Puddlejumpers’ proximity settings and by the alien technology of the gliders that made up the _Icarus_ squadron.

With nothing more than a thought, John flew his ‘jumper directly over the burial ground, then arrowed it up into the atmosphere. The bulky design of the ship wasn’t as aesthetically elegant as the squadron gliders, but it could do just as much as any glider. More, given what the older Elizabeth had told them about the ability to go back through time.

He hovered up in the atmosphere of the planet for a few minutes, giving the people down below time to disperse and commisserate. As he waited, he watched the _Icarus_ squadron make their way back out to the _Daedelus_, waggling their wings as they passed him and the other ‘jumpers that waited for the signal to return to the grave site.

“Colonel Sheppard?”

“Dr. Weir.” They were going for formal, so he might as well beformal. “Ready to go home?”

Home. Atlantis.

“We’re ready.”

As he flew back down, through the stratosphere, through the clouds, and down towards the tiny figures ofWeir, McKay, Teyla, and Beckett, standing in a cluster beside the memorial stone an Athosian stoneworker had hewn out from local rock, John felt a satisfaction and a grief so fierce that his sight blurred for a moment. He’d lost one friend and he would grieve in private for that soldier; but he still had so many others to look after.

His city. His people. His responsibility.

John flew down to take them home.


End file.
